Hey God!
by Akasha617
Summary: Babe story. Ranger spends a sleepless night making a decision about his future...and then acts.
1. Part 1

No, I've not gone religious; this title is one of my favorite Bon Jovi songs and has (as always) nothing to do with the story. Well, not per se.

Muchas Gracias to Stayce for all the help. If you like this story, it's because of Stayce's editing, if you hate it, it's my fault...

All characters belong to JE

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Hey God!

Part 1

Did you know the mouth of the Statue of Liberty is three feet wide? Me neither, and I still don't care, but that's what it said on my Snapple cap just now. And the fact that I was even thinking about it showed me I was trying to put off thinking about what actually mattered.

And that in itself was wrong. I don't put off, as a rule, I'm a 'now' kind of guy. A decision needs to be made; I make it, plain and simple. I never regret that decision and I can always justify it.

So why was I sitting here in my chair at my desk reading a bottle cap? Two words: Stephanie Plum.

Hard to say when my view of Stephanie changed form 'nice piece of ass' to 'woman I love'. I cringed at my own words. Love? Where had that come from? I didn't do love. I didn't do relationships, and I sure as hell didn't do love. Love was something for nine-to-five guys with secure office jobs, for men with safe lives. Not for guys like me who never actually knew for certain if they'd come home at the end of the day or end up in a morgue.

OK, so lately, my life wasn't all life or death situations, and the last time I was injured it was a flesh wound that didn't even require an overnight hospital stay, but still. My life was most certainly not nine-to-five and that's what women want.

Granted, not all women, and Steph certainly didn't fit the description of an average woman, but in general. Although she's never said it, I'm sure that deep down, she wants a secure relationship with a dependable man. OK, so I _was_ dependable, but not in a relationship. I was the kind of man women spent a hot night with before they went back to their safe and predictable lives.

I took a deep breath and slammed my fist down on the desk in frustration. That's just what happens when you get emotional. You think too much. And then you start questioning your decisions, and pretty soon, you start doubting yourself. Downward spiral. Slippery slope.

This had to end. Now.

The first time I decided that and tried to get her out of my system, it backfired on me. I quickly found out that fucking Stephanie was _not _the surefire way to get her out of my system. That was a mistake. It turned out to be the surefire way to think about her all the time.

To be honest, I hadn't been convinced it would work, but it's what everybody tells you to do to get over someone: sleep with her. As long as she's a fantasy, she'll live on. Once you've had her, you'll get over her.

Yeah, right.

That's like saying the worst part about a category 5 hurricane is the wind. Once that's over, everything is fine. I was on too many cleanup crews to believe that. And yet, I was more than willing to believe sex would get Stephanie off my mind.

OK, so I'd wanted her. I'd wanted her for a long time, longer than I've ever waited for any woman. It had gotten so bad, I got hard when she looked at me a certain way. But I kept telling myself it was only physical, that I wanted to fuck her until she couldn't walk for a week and then I'd move on. Since I didn't do relationships.

And then I had her. For one long sleepless night, I had her.

Yeah, I've had sex before Steph and I've had sex after. Getting a piece of ass into my bed was never a problem. Sex was not a problem. It never is. Love is. Sex is physical, instant gratification. Wham, bam, thank you Ma'am, as they say. Sex is emotionless. You don't need a vow of eternal love to have an orgasm, a smile will do.

So, long story less long, here I was, midnight on a Sunday evening, brooding in my office because I couldn't get a girl out of my head. If any of my men found out, they wouldn't believe it. And if they did, they would laugh their asses off.

Good god, I may have sighed. I had to watch that. If I wasn't careful, I'd be writing poetry before too long. I snorted. Yeah, that would happen.

Not that what I was going to do was too far removed from it. I took the small box from my desk and flipped it open. When was the last time I gave a woman jewelry? Had to have been the wedding band I gave Rachel. It had never meant anything. This meant too much. I swore under my breath. Did I know what I was doing?

I studied the fine metal on its black velvet cushion and couldn't quite suppress a smile. No way would I ever tell a soul how many stores I had to visit to find this perfect pendant. The necklace was so cheesy, it should have disgusted me. But it didn't and that meant I had it bad.

I snapped the box shut and shook my head. "Losing it, Manoso," I said out loud, storing the jewelry in a desk drawer and getting up. This called for a couple of hours in the gym, the one way I knew to stop mulling this over.

By 3 AM, I had reached a decision. This was the last night I had wasted brooding, that was for sure. It was going to be do or die, shit or get off the pot, all money on one horse, and every other proverb the English language had for this type of situation.

I was going to tell Steph. I was going to tell her and then I was going to give her the necklace, to 'prove that I'm no joker'. As if I needed any further proof that I was losing it, now I was hearing lyrics from the Rocky Horror Picture Show that I didn't even know I remembered. Just because I thought about giving her the…well, I didn't know what to call it, really. It wasn't a diamond ring, I wasn't proposing marriage. Neither one of us was ready for that. But it wasn't just a gift from a friend either. It was a piece of me I'd never offered.

It was more than I'd ever given anyone, because it meant more. It meant forever. I wanted Steph to wear it, I wanted her to think of me every time she felt its weight against her collar bone, wanted her to feel she was mine. Because I wanted her to be mine, like I was going to be hers. There, I said it. Well, so far I'd only thought it, but later in the day, I was going to say it. To her.

Me. Ricardo Carlos Manoso, son of a bitch and badass, preparing to tell a woman he didn't want to spend another day of his life without her. It was the only way, the alternative was to go insane. Because I'd tried not telling her for over a year now and I'd just about reached my breaking point.

I couldn't run this plan by anyone because I knew I wouldn't do it if I thought about it another minute, it was just too crazy. Absolutely unlike me. My men probably talked about me and Steph, speculating on what our relationship was. I'd never tried to hide the resources I offered to her, the men I assigned to her or the time I spent with her. But I never talked about it either.

And now I was going to. Steph would be the first to know, the world would follow, so to say.

She only had two ways to answer, yes or no. If she said yes, I would seal the deal in my bedroom all night long, and every night from then on. If she said no, I would stay away from her for the rest of my life.

It made me feel a little better that, one way or another, I would know for sure. I would know if she wanted me, wanted to be with me, or not. And I told myself I could live with a no, just as long as I knew.

We'd been dancing around this decision for too long. I had made up my mind, now I needed her to do the same.

Morelli or me, who was it going to be? Right there and then, I would know.

I woke up at 5 AM, ran my usual five miles, showered and got dressed. The whole thing still seemed laughable to me, but I knew I had to do it. I couldn't deal with the uncertainty any longer.

Steph never got up before nine. If I went over to her apartment, I could talk to her before she left for the day.

To verify, I stopped by the control room and brought up her car's GPS.

She was not at home. Or rather, her car wasn't at home. It was parked in front of her parents' house in the Burg. Fuck. No way could I do this in front of her parents.

But if I didn't do it right away, there was a chance I wouldn't do it at all. Something might come up. I might have to leave town. Or, most likely and painful to admit, I would lose my nerve or talk myself out of it. I might decide that it's not so bad to have the occasional stolen kiss in the alley that left me with blue balls until I got a cold shower. That it was OK I was dropping Steph off at the cop's house after a job, where she would crawl into his warm bed.

Fuck.

I took a deep breath, told Santos at the monitors I was going offline for a couple of hours and headed downstairs. I had to stop this; I was turning into a wimp. And I couldn't even say I was pussy whipped, Steph had no idea she was the cause of all of this!

"This ends now," I told myself again out loud as I stepped off the elevator in the garage and remoted my Turbo open.

My plan was to wait for Steph outside the house and talk to her alone. And my plans usually work.

Of course I could have called her to arrange a meeting, but I didn't want to. This was not something I could set up like a date. I wouldn't be able to tell her what it was on the phone and then she'd get curious. There were too many ways it could go wrong from there, a curious Stephanie was like a dud.

Sometimes you picked one up and it lay nice and quiet like in your hand, and sometimes you picked one up and it exploded and ripped off your arm.

I started the car and ran my palm over my chin as I exhaled. The term 'over thinking' came to mind, I definitely had spent way too much time going back and forth about it from a million different angles about this the past couple of days.

"Less talk, more action," I told myself as I backed out of the parking space.

I could feel the little box in one of the pockets of my cargo pants, pressing against my leg as I shifted.

This was it. Go time.

TBC

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A/N: Do you think Ranger made the right decision? Should he tell Steph how he feels or will it put her in danger if everyone knows??


	2. Part 2

No, I've not gone religious; this title is one of my favorite Bon Jovi songs and has (as always) nothing to do with the story. Well, not per se.

Your feedback and reviews were totally overwhelming. If I didn't thank you in person, I apologize, I really, really appreciated them

A special thank you to Stayce for her help

All characters belong to JE

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Hey God!

Part 2

I was actually nervous as I made my way through Trenton's late rush hour traffic to Steph's parents' house. And I don't give in to nerves, ever. Well, until now, anyway. It would turn out to be a day of many firsts.

I would say I felt like a boy on his prom night, except I couldn't recall being nervous then at all. Girls were never anything to be nervous about. They had started liking what they saw when I was about thirteen. I wasn't vain about it, but I noticed. And I've used it to my advantage more times than I'm proud of.

So this was most definitely a new experience for me, partially because there were so many if-factors. What if Morelli was there with her? What if she told me I was too late? What if I couldn't get her alone and had to talk to her in front of her whole family? Like I said, too many unknowns, and I hate unknowns. I never act until I have all the possibilities checked out, until the terrain is scouted and all variables are covered.

Until now.

I practiced some deep breathing as I nosed the Porsche into a free spot in front of her parents' row house. When I felt I was focused enough, I scanned the other parked cars. Her dad's Buick was on the tar apron in front of the garage, his cab was parked a couple of spots behind me. Steph's beat-up Chevy was right in front of me. Unfortunately her sister's Minivan was parked in front of her, which meant the whole family was inside. But none of Morelli's cars were in sight, so that meant at least one variable was taken care of.

I undid my seatbelt and settled in for the wait. Steph never stayed long at her parents' house and she usually left alone. That's what I was counting on today. I really didn't want to do this in front of her parents, let alone the whole family.

I took the small jewelry box out of my pocket and placed it on the seat beside me. Presentation was key, I figured. Only I had very little experience with that kind of thing. It wasn't like I was asking her to marry me, but very close to it. Actually, as close as I'd ever come to it. I'd never asked a girl to marry me. When Rachel got pregnant, I told her I'd marry her and give the child my name. I wasn't in love with Rachel, I was responsible for her predicament and it was the only solution.

This time, it was the real thing. So much relied on Steph's answer, that it was imperative not to fuck up the question.

Usually I thrive on pressure. While in the Army, I'd enjoyed missions that seemed impossible, those that could cost lives if they were only partially successful.

This time, only my personal life was at stake. I was used to being alone, remaining single shouldn't be a problem. But living without Stephanie would be. I did a lot of thinking over the past few weeks and I'd come to the conclusion that she was my life, as corny as it sounded.

And what's that stupid line? When you decide whom you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. Only she may have decided I'd waited too long to realize that.

Come to think of it, she hadn't asked me about 'us' in a long time. Not since the day I fucked up by telling her my love came with a condom, not a ring.

I grunted as I dropped my head back against the headrest. That day had definitely been a low point. Instead of telling her I wanted her, I'd pretty much told her I only wanted to fuck her.

Now don't get me wrong, I definitely wanted her body. But I wanted so much more than that.

Today, I was finally going to tell her.

Waiting was part of my job. I could wait for hours if I had to, long after Steph started fidgeting. I had a lot more practice than she had; waiting was part of a good tactic. But today, it gave me too much time to think and I started second guessing myself. That was so alien to me, it disturbed me. I don't second guess myself as a rule. Until now.

Then again, the one rule about Steph was, there were no rules. She was rubbing off on me. That thought first brought a smile, but then I thought about rubbing, specifically rubbing up against her and my cargo pants got tight. Shit. Did I mention I wanted her? Maybe I wouldn't wait until we got to my bedroom, maybe I'd drag her into the alley by the bonds office and…that thought didn't help at all. And it wasn't even the way I wanted to do it, fast and dirty. Oh no, not the first night. We would take our time. Over and over again. I shook my head to clear it, I'd let my mind wander too far already.

I had to do this right. Had to make her understand, beyond any doubt, that I didn't just want sex, that I wanted _her._

The Plums' front door opened and I snapped to attention. A second later, she appeared.

She was wearing a shiny yellow dress, off the shoulders. She wore a beige shawl over her shoulders, tied in the front, but I imagined without it, you would see a hint of cleavage. She was dressed up, and she looked beautiful. Her dark hair was up, a few curls were framing her face. She was smiling and turned her head to say something over her shoulder. I'd never seen that dress on her, and I was wondering what she was wearing it for, it looked festive. Definitely not something she would go to work in, not even when she did a distraction job.

But really, it didn't matter. I had picked this time as go time, and that's what it would be.

With a last deep breath, I grabbed the box, opened the car door and got out. I leaned against the hood of my car and crossed my arms around my chest. I chose the pose on purpose, Steph had seen me like this a hundred times, I wanted her to feel comfortable. Or maybe I wanted to make myself comfortable with the familiar stance, because that fucking nervous flutter in my stomach wouldn't go away. It was ridiculous.

She was still turned around, but now she was nudged out the door and onto the stoop and her grandmother appeared behind her. I groaned inwardly. Of all the people to witness what I'd planned, her grandmother was about the last person I'd want there.

Now one of Steph's nieces pushed herself out the door next to the grandmother and galloped down the steps. It was going to be the whole family, they were leaving together. And judging by everyone's outfit, they were going to celebrate somewhere together. My timing had never sucked worse.

I should have gone to her apartment. Should have waited there for her or go over there at night when she was sleeping. That had been the plan this morning until I checked her car's GPS and it had told me she was here. If I'd waited, there was a chance I would have lost my nerve to do it at all.

Now I had to do it in front of the whole family. Fuck.

Since I hadn't moved and they were all busy talking and leaving, they hadn't noticed me yet. I could still slip away. Steph wouldn't notice me until I pulled away, but I could explain that when I met her again.

Except that was not my MO. I didn't postpone. And I didn't change a plan once it was finalized unless it was absolutely necessary, like a cancelled plane delaying the departure. Her family being present wasn't reason enough to change my plan.

One by one, the Plums and Kloughns were piling out of the house. Her niece was galloping over to Steph's car and finally saw me when she looked my way. Steph was chatting with her mother now and hadn't noticed me yet.

The little girl looked from me to Steph and took a step back. I forced a smile and nodded. "Hi."

It didn't help, she still ran back to her family, I have that effect on kids.

Now Steph looked up at her niece and saw me standing behind her. Her brow furrowed, she was confused. I was still smiling.

Mr. and Mrs. Plum were walking towards their Buick now, both of them throwing me glances.

"What are you doing here?" Steph asked when she was just a few feet away.

"Need to talk to you," I said.

Steph's sister came down the steps with her baby in her arms, Mrs. Mazur was locking up behind them. The baby was wearing a christening gown. Albert Kloughn was behind his wife in a black suit and grey tie. They were on their way to the baby's christening. I mentally kicked myself.

"Now?" Steph asked.

Thankfully, everyone piled into their cars without paying us much attention, although Mrs. Plum had come back for Mrs. Mazur and was leading her away by the elbow. I figured they were already running late, which gave me the advantage of being alone with Steph, but the disadvantage of not having much time.

"It won't take long," I said.

She leaned against her car's trunk, facing me. "Something wrong?"  
No, nothing was wrong and everything was wrong. I was in unknown territory and I had to learn as I went.

"Nothing's wrong," I said. "Just need to talk to you. Won't take long."

Her parents' car was backing out of the driveway behind us. Her brother in law was stating up the minivan. Steph's dad stopped his car right beside us and her mom rolled down the window.  
"Stephanie," she said, but Steph raised her hand before she could continue.  
"I'll meet you there," Steph said. "I'm right behind you."

Mrs. Plum looked at me again, not sure if she should worry. "Mrs. Plum," I said and nodded. She glanced from me to Steph and frowned.

"Don't be late," she said and rolled up her window.

The Buick took off and a moment later, the minivan pulled away from the curb. I'd lucked out after all. I had less time than I'd hoped for, but I had her undivided attention.

"I need to be at the church in ten minutes," Steph said. "It's Lisa's christening."

Enough small talk. I cleared my throat and gripped the little box tighter in my hand as I pushed myself off my car.

"I have something for you," I said.

Her eyes met mine. I didn't know what she read in my eyes, but I could see everything in hers. She was curious, but she was also a little worried, waiting to find out if seeing me was good news or bad news.

Right at that moment, everything fell into place for me. I loved her. I didn't understand what had taken me so long to realize it, but it was undeniable now. I loved her and I wanted her to be mine.

"I love you," I said, throwing caution to the wind.

Her eyes widened as she sucked in air. "What?" she asked. I knew she'd heard me but I repeated it just the same.

It wasn't as hard to say as I'd feared. Now came the hard part. "Do you love me?"

Steph opened her mouth a couple of times but no sound came out. I took a step toward her to close the distance between us and put my hand on her forearm.

"Babe, do you love me?"

She looked up at me, tears pooling in her eyes. "Yes," she whispered.

I didn't realize I was holding my breath waiting for an answer. Now I let it out slowly. Relieved. Happy.

I cleared my throat again and took a step back, opening the tiny box with my thumb as I brought it up to eye level.

"Then will you wear this? For me? For…us?" I didn't know how to put it. I was frantically searching for the right words.

A tear spilled over and ran down her cheek as she looked at the pendant. "Oh," she sort of gasped.

A long time ago, she had compared me to Batman. She'd told me how she and Lula had found many similarities. Vinnie had told me it was what they called me behind my back.

The pendant on the thin gold chain was his symbol. A bat, blackened gold, its outline encrusted with diamonds. The sunlight caught in the stones and made them sparkle.

Steph lifted her hand and touched it with her finger tip, studying it. Then she looked up at me.

"But you…but you said…"  
I put my index finger over her mouth gently. "Shhh. I know what I said. None of that matters anymore. I want to be with you. Forever. If that's what you want."

Another tear spilled over. She reached for the necklace and I took a step back to take it out of the box and lay it around her neck. To make her mine. At that moment, our future together flashed through my mind. Where even the thought of a romantic relationship had sent me running before, the picture in my head now made me happy. Happy was a new feeling for me.

I took the necklace out and undid the clasp. The tears were flowing freely now but she was smiling.

"It's what I want," she whispered and bowed her head slightly so I could close the chain behind her neck.

It was perfect. The black pendant settled against her milky skin and its edges sparkled with all the colors of the rainbow.

"Babe," I whispered, still at a loss for words.

She put her arms around my neck and linked her hands, pulling me towards her.

"Mine," she said just before I lowered my mouth to hers and kissed her.

I can't remember any kiss ever being like this one. My mind was racing. She'd accepted. She'd said yes! She was mine!

As I pushed my tongue into her mouth and pulled her body against mine, everything around me faded into the background, I'd never let myself feel so completely before.

We both looked up at the same time as a car came to a screeching stop beside us. I hadn't heard it approach, it seemed to appear out of nowhere. What happened next took maybe ten seconds from start to finish, but it seemed to happen in slow motion. By the time it clicked into place what was happening, it was too late.

The passenger side window rolled down and the barrel of a gun was stuck out. Instinctively, I took a step forward, trying to shield Steph. But she beat me to it. She pushed me hard and caught me off balance because I was moving. She was in front of me when we heard the soft pop of the silenced gun discharging twice.

Steph gasped, her eyes widened and I could read surprise and pain in them before she sagged against me. I caught her and felt her warm blood on my hands as I sunk to the ground slowly, cradling her in my arms.

She looked up at me as I tried grab my cell phone of my belt to call for help. When she lifted her hand, I grabbed it. Still in slow motion, I saw a drop of her blood drip from my fingers down to the necklace, splattering on the black pendant, turning it red.

"I'm sorry forever wasn't any longer, looks like I can't do that right either," she said and closed her eyes.

Somebody screamed her name. I think it was me.

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A/N: I could tell from your feedback that you knew something was coming...I hope I didn't disappoint. Thank you again for all your reviews, I love to learn how a story made you feel.


	3. Part 3

No, I've not gone religious; this title is one of my favorite Bon Jovi songs and has (as always) nothing to do with the story

Herzlichen Dank to Stayce, for giving Ranger the right voice

Thanks to all of you for your inspiring reviews. If I didn't get to thank you in person, I really appreciated the feedback!

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All characters belong to JE

Hey God!

Part 3

He's a broken man. I can't tell you how many times I've heard somebody use that phrase, but I don't think I ever understood what it really meant. Not until that morning when I became one myself. I had been on missions where I'd been tortured for days and never felt as broken as I did right then. I felt like part of me had died.

There were sirens and bright lights, flashing and pulsing. It all felt like a dream to me because I was detached from it, like I was watching it from far away.

I didn't call the ambulance, I don't know who did. All I could do was hold Stephanie in my arms. I was afraid if I let go, she'd slip away. I remember shaking her, trying to wake her up. Then I screamed, begging her to open her eyes.

They told me it took four guys to pry her away from me so they could take care of her. That Tank had to hold me back when the EMTs arrived and wanted to take care of her because I was going to fight them. I don't remember that part. I only remember holding on to her, trying to give her some of my strength, willing her to breathe.

And the pulsing lights reflecting off the pendant around her neck, painting her face in unnatural colors.

A voice in my head was screaming at me to stay calm, to assess the situation and act. It was the voice I'd been listening to for several years, the part that allowed me to stay in control at all times. It was also the part that kept my emotions in the background.

And up until today, it had been the part that controlled me. Today though, my emotions had taken control, I'd opened up like I never had before. I had allowed my feelings to come out, I felt.

Now I realized I had to shut that part of me down again. Seeing Stephanie get shot caused me real physical pain. I had known she was a part of me, but I hadn't realized how much until today.

I felt panic, helplessness and pain. And I couldn't handle those emotions, they scared me. All I knew was I couldn't fix it, I couldn't help Stephanie. So I just sort of shut down. Nothing mattered, except for Steph in my arms.

It may have been minutes, hours or days, I had no idea how much time went by. When Tank yelled, "Ranger!" at the top of his lungs and clapped his hands right in front of my face with an intensity that made it sound like a gunshot, it brought me back to reality.

The first thing I realized was that I wasn't on the ground and Steph wasn't in my arms anymore. She was a few yards away from me, strapped to a gurney, being pushed into an ambulance. I wanted to run to her, to pick her up and feel her again. But I knew I wasn't going to do any of those things.

Tank was by my side, studying me, trying to gauge if I was okay. I couldn't blame him; he'd never seen me out of control before.

"What happened?" he asked.

I knew what he meant. He wanted a description of the vehicle, the license plate number, what the shooter had looked like, stuff like that. Information I could have given him if I'd been aware of my surroundings. Except I hadn't been.

How many years had I been telling Steph to pay more attention? Why? Because when you get distracted, shit happens. Shit like today. A cruel reminder of why I didn't do emotions. I couldn't afford them. If I got emotional I fucked up.

I looked up at Tank. "I don't know."

His eyes widened marginally. I knew he wanted to ask what the fuck I meant. Hell, I wanted to know what the fuck I meant.

I nodded towards the ambulance. "I'm going with her. Stay here." I glanced around. Santos was standing behind me. "I have to go."

I didn't bother to look at Tank and Santos again; I knew they were looking at me like I'd grown another head. Or like I'd lost it. Which, in a lot of ways, I had, I guessed. I was running on autopilot, my usual self trying to take charge again, clean up the mess my emotional self had created. I needed to take care of Steph, I had to pull myself together, as my mother had called it.

That's when I promised myself I would never give in to emotions again, or even display them. Today was proof nothing good ever happened when you shared your feelings. That's why I walked over to the ambulance and didn't run. That's why I quietly watched the EMT at work and didn't plead with him to make her open her beautiful blue eyes again. That's why I waited and watched.

I couldn't tell if Steph was breathing. The EMT had hooked her up to some machine and was trying to get an IV in.

I squeezed in just as he was pulling the door closed. "You can't…" he started but then he stopped. I don't know what he saw when he looked at me but it made him shut up and that's what I'd wanted.

The closing doors were the driver's signal; he sped off as soon as they fell into their locks. The EMT was hooking up a defibrillator and for the first time, I looked at her face.

She was white as a sheet. Her usually porcelain complexion had a sickly grey to it and seeing it was like a punch in the stomach. I pressed my lips together hard and remained still.

There was a beep from the heart monitor but it didn't sound right. I'd heard enough of them to know what they're supposed to sound like when a heart is working right. Steph's wasn't.

She was dying. And it was my fault. There was no doubt about it, if I hadn't gotten all sappy, she would be at her niece's christening at this very moment instead of getting ready to meet her maker.

The EMT put an oxygen mask over her face and scribbled on his clipboard. I clenched my fists to stay where I was, when I really wanted to shake him, scream at him to make her better, and hurry the fuck up. I knew he was doing what he could. It just wouldn't be enough.

Ironically enough, this is what I'd always predicted. I'd told Steph my life didn't lend itself to relationships, that she would be in constant danger if she was with me. I deserved this for going against everything I knew was right. But Steph didn't deserve it; she was the innocent in all this.

I looked at her face again. The life was draining out of it and I had the strange desire to take it in my hand and cover it with kisses, make her wake up like a fucking prince in a fucking fairy tale. But I didn't move.

We arrived at St. Francis's ER a little over seven minutes later. A team was standing by to meet the ambulance.

"Are you the husband?" a nurse asked me.

By that time, some of my old control had returned and I resisted the urge to slap her. How long ago had Steph promised to be mine, ten minutes? Fifteen? Only when she'd promised forever, she'd expected it to be much longer.

"What do you need?" I asked instead of answering her.

"We'll take care of her but in the meantime, we need her next of kin to fill out the forms…" She gestured towards the hospital.

I realized someone would have to notify her parents who at this very moment were probably waiting for her a couple of blocks from here at the church. Probably getting angry with her for being late. This would also be my fault.

Steph was being pulled out of the ambulance and wheeled into the ER. I knew there was nothing I could do for her right now; I had to have faith in the doctors. But in my heart I knew it was too late.

"I can fill out the forms," I said and followed the nurse inside.

I flipped my cell phone open when I sat down in the waiting room and blew out a long breath as I punched in the number from memory.  
"Mrs. Plum? This is Ranger Manoso…"

"What happened to Stephanie?" she cut me off.

"There's been an accident. She's at the hospital," I said, closing my eyes.

An accident, yeah right. I woke up this morning without my brains and got Stephanie killed, some accident.

"What?? What happened?" Mrs. Plum's voice got shrill, and there was some commotion at her end.

After a moment, her husband came on. "What's going on?"

"Mr. Plum, Stephanie's been hurt. She's at St. Francis, but I don't have a status yet, the doctors are with her."

That was close enough to the truth. They didn't have to know she was dead; I'd leave that to the doctor to tell them.

"We'll be right there," Mr. Plum said and disconnected.

That was easy. I'd have time to prepare until they got here and Mrs. Plum could drill me with questions.

I leaned back to rest my head against the wall and closed my eyes. They deserved to know the truth, of course, and I would tell them, but I needed a little more distance first. I needed to detach myself, shut down my fucking feelings. It was a battle I wasn't used to fighting.

Steph's parents arrived before the doctor came out but after the cops got there. I'd seen two more doctors rush in, along with a nurse carrying pints of blood, but no one had come out. It had been 24 minutes since we'd arrived. I'd stopped the last guy that had rushed in and asked him for an update.

"She's going up to the OR," was all he said before he stepped around me and disappeared behind the double doors.

Two of my men had assumed position at either side of the entrance, probably at Tank's orders, I hadn't talked to them. I knew they all wanted to know what happened, how I could have let this happen. They all liked her, would let themselves get hurt or killed to protect her, but this had happened on my watch.

The cops had approached me right away but there was nothing I could tell them, I hadn't seen anything that would help them find the shooter. They didn't look like they believed me but they left me alone for the time being.

I must have been right about the proximity of the church; her parents pushed the waiting room's doors open twelve minutes after I'd hung up.

All the forms were filled out, I knew all of Steph's details, had them committed to memory. I knew her insurance information because I'd never taken her off RangeMan's policy. How much was a life worth, I wondered. Would I see the final bill, what it had cost to let her die at my hands?

"Where is she?" Mrs. Plum demanded, hustling to the main admission desk.

I got up and joined her and Mr. Plum. "She's still in surgery," I said.

Mrs. Plum's head spun around. "What happened? Why are the police here?"

Where to begin? 'You see, I woke up this morning determined to share my feelings and tell Stephanie I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her and now she's dead.'

That was true but not appropriate right then.

"There was a shooting outside your house," I said instead.

Mrs. Plum clutched her husband's arm. "When? We weren't gone five minutes!"

I wish I could allow myself the luxury of thinking with that kind of logic. Unfortunately, I had to stick to reality. "Right after you left. The shooter got away; the cops are here to gather information."

I stood straight, my hands clamped behind my back, my face a blank mask. "They're doing what they can for her, the doctor will update us as soon as he can."

I didn't actually know if I wanted to be there for that moment. Mrs. Plum would wail. Mr. Plum might break down. I wasn't sure I wanted to witness that, but I was sure I didn't want anyone to see my reaction, I couldn't trust myself to stay in control just yet.

"But what happened?" Mrs. Plum asked, reaching out to put her hand on my shoulder, as if she needed to get my attention.

It was the question I've asked myself since I got into the ambulance with Steph. What had happened?

She'd agreed to be mine, she'd called me hers, and then we'd kissed. It was a moment of happiness.

And then reality had come back with a bang. I grimaced at the pun. Two shots, a silenced automatic, that much I remembered.

The scene played back in my head in slow motion. The car stopping, a window sliding down. But as much as I tried to focus on the details, it was all fuzzy in the background, all behind Stephanie's smile. Her bright blue eyes sparkling at me, her warm hands at my neck.

I shook my head to clear it. I had to push her to the background of this mental picture or I'd never be able to find out more about the shooter. And I needed to find them so I could kill them. Slowly, painfully.

"It happened too fast," I said.

Funny how I'd always dismissed that saying, arguing that there's always time to focus on important details. But now I realized you had to pay close attention to catch those details.

"But I will find out who did this," I promised Mrs. Plum.

She nodded and turned to her husband. "Joseph should be here. We need to call him."

Right. Morelli. Morelli who didn't get Steph shot, who could protect her when I couldn't. She would be safe with Morelli. I'd known this all along and yet, last night, it didn't matter as much as my wanting her.

Stephanie was meant to be with Morelli, he was good for her. The fact that I wanted her didn't change that. This morning was a big case in point. Doesn't get much better, I'd gotten her killed.

Mrs. Plum flagged down a nurse who pretty much told her the same thing I had. I went back to the chair closest to the closed-off treatment area and waited. I needed to hear them say it.

The minutes ticked by. The rest of Steph's family arrived, gathering around her parents. I was wondering if Morelli would shoot me as soon as he'd found out what had happened. It was what I would have done if he'd gotten her killed.

Just about an hour after we'd arrived, the door was pushed open and a doctor walked through. He was wearing surgeon's scrubs and they were smeared with blood.

He glanced at his clipboard. "Is the family of Stephanie Plum here?"  
I let out a long breath and stood, he was now right in front of me. The Plums had gotten up as well and were approaching the doctor, but I was closest.

"I'm with her," I said.

The doctor turned around to face me. He looked exhausted, like he'd been fighting to save her life. "I'm Dr. Sheldon," he said, extending his hand.

"How's my daughter? Can we see her?" Mrs. Plum shrieked and the doctor turned towards her.

He gestured towards the opposite side of the waiting room, the empty side. Where he'd be able to talk to us in relative quiet, in case there was a scene. "Let's talk over there."

I closed my eyes. This was it. I would hear it and all my hopes would vanish.

TBC

* * *

A/N: You asked for a part 3, you got one…and there WILL be a part 4, in case you're wondering. I'm not _that_ mean! What do you think the doctor has to say about Steph?? Will Ranger forgive himself, get back to being his old self again?


	4. Part 4

In case you're curious, type in 'Hey God, Bon Jovi' on youtube, it won't let me post the link to the Wembley concert

Thank you all so very much for your wonderful reviews, I'm totally overwhelmed with how much you like the story! If I didn't get to thank you in person, I'm sorry, I really appreciated your feedback!

Dank Dir, Stayce, Superfreund und Editor!!

All characters belong to JE

* * *

Hey God!f

Part 4

Dr. Sheldon took Mrs. Plum's elbow and led her over to the far corner of the room. I followed them with Mr. Plum. He was looking at the floor, his lips pressed tightly together. I knew how he felt.

My legs were heavy and I had a headache that was threatening to burst my skull open. I didn't think the Plums were feeling much better.

The doctor consulted his clipboard again and then he looked directly at me.

"She's lost a lot of blood," he said and sighed. I held my breath. "She's not out of the woods yet, but we have her stabilized for the time being. We removed two bullets, and we're fairly certain we repaired the damage they caused."

She was alive. I'd been so certain she was dead that I wanted to shake the doctor and make him repeat what he just said, just to make sure I'd heard him right.

Mrs. Plum started crying. Whether out of relief or out of worry, I couldn't tell. She grasped her husband's arm and was leaning heavily on it.

Dr. Sheldon looked at her, then back at me. I couldn't read the expression in his face, as if he was struggling to keep it neutral. "The next 24 hours are going to be critical."

"Can we see her?" Mrs. Plum asked, her voice cracking.

Dr. Sheldon shook his head. "Not just yet. She's being brought up to ICU, I'll have a nurse show you to that waiting room. Give us another hour."

"But why can't we see her _now_?" Mrs. Plum asked again.

"You can see her as soon as she's settled," Dr. Sheldon replied patiently. "But right now I have to consider Stephanie's needs first."

Mr. Plum thanked the doctor and tried to calm his wife. It didn't look like he'd succeed. I couldn't hear what he was saying but she kept protesting. He did however keep her from attacking the doctor.

Dr. Sheldon apparently thought he'd said enough, because he waved at one of the nurses behind the admission desk and motioned for her to come over. I waited until the nurse had introduced herself to the Plums and led them away.

"How is she doing?" I asked Dr. Sheldon when we were alone. "What didn't you tell us?"

Dr. Sheldon sighed and shook his head slightly, making sure the Plums were out of earshot. "It doesn't look good. With that kind of blood loss…we have to wait and see if she even wakes up. And if she does, there's no telling what kind of damage her brain took." He looked at his clipboard again and flipped a page. "Both bullets missed the spinal cord, and we managed to eventually stop the internal bleeding. We hope. But we have to wait for her to regain consciousness before we can make any kind of prognosis."  
I nodded. Easy to see why he kept those details from her parents when they were obviously already hanging on by a thin thread. "Thank you," I pressed out and shook his hand.

"Her physician from now on will be Dr. Penn," he said with a nod of his own. "Up on ICU."

And then he left to take care of other patients or wash up or whatever. I stood in that same corner a moment longer, digesting the information.

Stephanie was alive. Not awake yet, but alive. I knew she was a fighter, I shouldn't have doubted her. She made it this far, I allowed myself to hope she'd make it all the way.

I glanced over at my men near the entrance. I had two choices, really. One, I could take the good news and start hunting down the shooter, put all available men on it and find the fucker. Or two, I could stay here; wait upstairs until I could see her. Confirm that she was alive and would make it.

I looked from my men to the elevator. It was a tough choice. I really didn't want to leave her but I _really_ needed to find out what happened.

Since Dr. Sheldon said it would be an hour until I'd get to see her, I decided to put that hour to good use and approached Junior and Cal at the doors, taking my cell phone off my belt as I walked.

Tank answered his phone on the first ring. "Any update?" I asked him.

"I could ask you the same," he said. "Is she alive?"

I told him what the doctor had said and he relayed the information to everyone at RangeMan. I could hear whooping and laughing in the background.

"What do you have so far?" I wanted to know.

Tank cleared his throat. "The cops got there after us, so they knew even less," he said. "We're still going door to door to find out if the neighbors saw anything, but it's tough going."  
"Why?"

He paused. I pictured the street Steph's parents lived on and my men going door to door. "They're not getting any cooperation?"  
"We always rely on Steph in this neighborhood for a reason. They think we're paramilitary or something. They don't trust us."  
"What else?" I rubbed my fingers over my forehead to ease some of the pounding in my head. "You got any good news for me?"

"Not yet. We're working with the CSI guys on it. There were tire tracks."

I closed my eyes. We were analyzing tire tracks? For fuck's sake! "Get Connie," I said. "Connie from the bonds office. People in the Burg will talk to her."

If Tank was offended I didn't suggest Lula, he didn't show it. "On it," he said and disconnected.

We had nothing. No shooter, no witness, nada. I clenched my fists and fought the urge to ram them into the nearest wall.

I shook my head to clear it, I _had_ to focus. I couldn't help Steph here, the doctors were taking care of her, and I only had an hour, I had to get moving.

Junior and Cal had overheard my status report to Tank, they looked relieved.

"Go up to the ICU floor. As soon as they have her in a room, take your positions outside," I told them. "We'll do round the clock shifts. Let only family and staff enter." Whoever the shooter was, I wasn't going to let them have a second chance.

The men just nodded and took off for the elevator. They knew everything had been said.

I called Cal back. "Need your keys," I said.

He lobbed me the keys to their RangeMan SUV and then he hesitated, as if he wanted to say something. I didn't want to hear it, I turned towards the exit.

For several minutes, I sat in the car trying to figure out where to go. I knew I had to do _something_, I couldn't sit and wait any longer, but what?

I went back to the Plums' house and parked half a block away behind another RangeMan SUV. There was crime scene tape blocking off the sidewalk in front of the house and the right side of the street, where it was tied around police saw horses.

I walked up to the SUV in front of me and Tank rolled down the window when I was at the driver's door level.

"On my way to pick up Connie," he said. "I called off our men here. Cal called in your orders, I have the shifts set up."

I nodded and gestured towards the windows on the opposite side. "Someone has to have seen something."

"If they did, we'll find out."

"Who's in charge here?" I jerked my head towards the cluster of cops behind the tape.

"Detective Stevens," Tank said.

I knew the guy by reputation; he was the TPD's top guy for major crimes. There was no sign of him at the moment.

"OK. Call me as soon as you find out anything," I said and Tank took that as his cue to take off.

Just as he left, Carl Costanza was stepping out of one of the cruisers, saw me and walked over. "How's she doing?" he asked as he lifted the police tape and ducked through.

"She's out of surgery," I told him. "Still in critical condition."

He nodded and didn't hide his relief. "What happened here?" He motioned behind him at the crime scene.

"That's what I'm gonna find out," I told him honestly. "Stevens around?"

"Talking to the neighbors," Costanza said.

He was looking at me curiously, as if he didn't quite believe I hadn't seen anything. I didn't know what I'd hoped to find here, but I certainly hadn't come to answer questions.

"You already made your statement?" he asked, obviously knowing about my involvement.

I nodded and took a card out of my pocket, handing it to Costanza, "Have Stevens call me. I have my men on this."

"How bad is it?" he wanted to know. "Is she gonna make it?"

"Too soon to tell," I said and left.

Shit. I'd wasted a half hour for nothing. Witnesses were the only hope left. I looked at the houses again. There was just no way no one had been at the windows, they all cared about what was happening on the street. Steph always complained about the Burg gossip mill. But none of them had come running out after the shooting, screaming they'd seen the whole thing.

I had to wait. Waiting wasn't a problem for me usually, you learn to be patient in the Army, and I'd perfected it to an art form. But this time, it was personal and I could feel the minutes ticking away. And each minute could get the fuckers further away from me.

As much as I tried to clear my mind, I kept thinking about Steph. Alone, in her hospital bed. I knew Tank knew what he was doing and would call me as soon as he learned anything, but there had to be more I could do.

A shiny black Mustang drove by as I was getting in my car, rap music blaring out loud enough to make windows shake. It gave me an idea and I got out my cell phone, calling the control room.

"Send all available men to St. Francis for a meeting. Parking lot, fifteen minutes from now," I told Zero when he answered. It was time to act.

There were already three RangeMan cars when I arrived back at the hospital. I got out of my SUV and the men followed suit. We gathered in a loose circle on the macadam.

"We're looking for two or more perps here," I said. "And we're gonna start looking now. Hector," I looked at him. "You're on Stark Street. Blend in, get friendly, feel it out. I want to know who is looking to buy what. These guys knew what they were doing, they had to have friends." He nodded, didn't ask any questions.

"Santos," I said and he straightened. "Call Detective Stevens every hour on the hour. They learn anything, I want to know about it. And if he mentions a name, run the report immediately."  
"On it," Santos said and turned to leave.

"Hal, you're on stand-by. If Connie finds out what the neighbors saw, start digging. They think they saw a Ford, you get me every Ford in the tri-state area, you got that?"

"Got it," Hal replied and for a second he looked like he was going to salute me.

"Woody, go see everyone you've ever known. Find out if anyone put a contract out on me. I don't care what it costs, pay what they ask for information. If no one paid to have me killed, find out who wanted me scared."

As the men jumped into their cars and left one by one, I felt better. I felt like we were moving forward, not treading water.

An hour later I was in the upstairs waiting room, making phone calls. There were a lot of people who owed me one way or another, and I told them all I'd make it worth their while if they had information for me.

The waiting room had comfortable chairs, its own vending machine and books in addition to magazines, but it was still a waiting room and we sat around without talking before Dr. Penn had allowed Mr. and Mrs. Plum into Steph's room just a couple of minutes ago. He said they could only stay a few minutes. I didn't want to cause trouble in front of her parents, but he better not try that shit with me. Once I went in, I was staying.

Cal and Junior had taken their posts on either side of the double milk glass doors that led to the restricted area; it was as far as they'd been allowed.

About fifteen minutes later, Mr. Plum pushed open the heavy glass door and they came out of the intensive care unit. Mrs. Plum's eyes were red and she was clutching a tissue to her face. Her husband was steadying her with his hand on her elbow.

A nurse got up from behind the station and handed Mr. Plum a prescription. Tranquilizers for Steph's mom, I guessed.

Mr. Plum nodded at me as they walked by, Mrs. Plum didn't look up. For a moment, I wondered why Morelli hadn't shown up, and when he would and what he'd do. But I didn't ask the Plums about it. Then the nurse I'd talked to when I got here opened the ICU's door and looked directly at me.

"You can see her now," she said. "But only for a couple minutes."

I got up and handed my cell phone to Junior, I already knew it wouldn't be allowed inside.

"Get me if there's news," I told him and then I followed the nurse through the doors.

She had me put on scrubs and a face mask because of the sterile environment. I didn't want to argue with her about the 'couple minutes' before I'd seen Steph, I didn't want to risk not being admitted at all.

The nurse led the way down the corridor; Steph's room was the third on the left. I thought I'd be better prepared for how she looked than her parents, since I was in the ambulance with her. I was wrong.

There was no Steph. There were white sheets and machines and tubes and valves. Under all of that, I could make out some of her brown curls and one hand, its color blending in with the sheet it lay on.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to walk closer. There was beeping and whirring and some other mechanical noise. Suddenly, all I wanted was to pick her up and carry her out of there and to safety, take her home. But she was safe here, there was nowhere I could take her and there was nothing I could do for her.

I looked at the nurse, "Thank you." Dismissing her. She understood and left.

"Babe," I whispered when I stood next to her bed.

And the cheesy line 'I'd give anything to have you look at me again' made sense now. If the devil showed up right now asking for my soul in exchange for Steph's health, I wouldn't hesitate. And I knew I had to stop thinking in fantasy terms and get back to the real world right about now. But it was hard to think straight.

I slowly picked up her hand; it felt cold and frail in mine. Now that my eyes had gotten used to all the machines, I was able to make out her face under the oxygen mask. No other body parts were visible, they were either bandaged or taped or under the thin blanket.

I've been in more hospital rooms than I cared to count and sometimes with people much worse off. I can't remember ever looking at someone and feeling so helpless and so angry at the same time.

The nurse came back, I was still standing next to Steph, unable to let go of her hand. I didn't turn when she opened the door, and I still hadn't moved when she left again. I just listened the rhythmic beeping and watched the artificial rise and fall of her chest.

After a while the door opened again, and I heard the rustle of starched clothes behind me, a doctor's coat.

"Mr. Manoso," a man said and I briefly glanced at him without moving my head.

"I'm Dr. Penn," he said after a moment. "Stephanie is in good hands with us. We're doing for her what we can."

"I know," I said.

"There's nothing you can do for her here now," he said.

"I'm staying," I said, keeping my voice even.

He sighed and it sounded to me like he'd expected as much. It probably wasn't the first time he heard it.

I saw him move out of the corner of my eye, he was pushing a chair over. Then he went over to one of the machines next to Steph's bed and checked the readout. He compared it to his notes and looked at me.

"She suffered immense trauma," he said. "We don't expect her to wake up before tomorrow."

I sensed him add 'if at all' in his mind. I wasn't interested. I'd doubted Steph once, and she'd proven me wrong. Now I knew she would survive this.

"Then I'll wait," I said and pulled the chair the rest of the way with my free hand, sitting down in it without moving the hand that held Steph's even an inch.

He nodded dejectedly and motioned to someone behind me, the nurse, from the sound her shoes had made when entering.

When they were done and had left, I focused on Steph again. I gently stroked the back of her hand with my thumb, then bent down to kiss it.

"Babe." There was so much I wanted to say to her, but I didn't want to say it to her sleeping form.

Hours went by without a change. Junior didn't come bustling into the room with a break through. I was hoping there was progress I just didn't know about yet.

It went dark outside, making the machine-filled white room seem even starker. I kept watching her, still hoping. The nurses changed, but the routine was the same. They checked the readouts, made some notes, smiled at me, and left again.

Suddenly, it was almost morning by now, the beeping changed. Steph's heart was beating faster, almost normal, and her hand stirred. I jumped up.

Her eyelids fluttered. "Steph," I tried and squeezed her hand lightly.

She groaned. Just a small human noise among the mechanical ones, but I heard it clearly.

A nurse walked past me just as Steph's eyes opened. I almost yanked her out of the way when she blocked my view.

"Miss Plum?" she asked, leaning over Steph. "Don't try to talk, there's a tube in your throat helping you breathe."

She was awake! I leaned around the nurse to be able to see her. I can't describe the feeling when I saw her eyes, bright and beautiful, looking up. I squeezed her hand again.

The nurse pushed a button by the bed twice and turned to me. "The doctor is coming."

Steph blinked, frowning in confusion. She hadn't looked at me yet.

"You're in the hospital," I said, leaning further across the bed.

A different doctor entered, a woman, and I felt hands on my shoulders, nudging me away. An orderly. "Let the doctor work," he said.

I let him lead me away, although it almost hurt physically to leave her side.

"Miss Plum, I'm Dr. Adams," the doctor said to Stephanie. "Blink once if you can hear me, OK?"

I couldn't see Steph's reaction but the doctor nodded in response. "We're going to remove the tube now. I'm going to count to three and then I want you to take a deep breath and slowly let it out, OK?"

Between the doctor and the nurses, my view of Stephanie was totally blocked as they went to work on her. I heard the count, the sucking noise, and then Stephanie coughing. Then the doctor was talking to her, a nurse handed her a cup with a straw, machines were checked.

But I still hadn't heard her voice. I didn't even know if she was moving on her own, if her eyes had stayed open.

"Stephanie," the doctor said. "You're at St. Francis hospital. Do you know what day it is?"

I'd heard enough, I needed to be with her. Pushing my way through the personnel, I stood by her bed again and took her hand. And she finally looked at me.

"Stephanie?" Dr. Adams asked again, trying to get Steph's attention.

Steph's eyes were still on me. "Babe," I whispered, her name was the only thing I was able to say.

Stephanie frowned in confusion. "Who are you?"

TBC

* * *

A/N: You didn't think I was going to let her die, did you?? Naaah, I'm all for the HEA...but whose??


	5. Part 5

Thank you all so much for your reviews, it was amazing for me to see how many of you liked this story. If I didn't get to thank you in person, I appreciated your feedback very much.

A special Spaciba to Stayce, my editor extraordinaire and Cherry, for her suggestions.

All characters belong to JE

* * *

Hey God!

Part 5

My heart stopped. Ever since the ER doctor told me Steph had survived but might have suffered brain damage, this was my worst fear. That she wouldn't remember anything, that she'd forgotten me. Us.

On some level, that was worse than a coma, although I couldn't understand why I felt that way. Then again, what if this was better?

I forced my face to remain blank while I struggled to breathe. "Steph…" I had no idea what I wanted to say.

"And where am I?" Steph asked.

Dr. Adams cleared her throat and touched Steph's chin with her index finger to turn her head. "I'm Dr. Adams, Stephanie; you're at St. Francis hospital."

Steph looked back at me. Her voice was more like a croak. "Ranger? What happened??"

This time, it took me a second to understand what was going on. She had looked _directly_ at me when she asked 'Who are you?', and I never thought she wasn't speaking to me. I exhaled slowly to calm down. She hadn't looked _at_ me; she'd been trying to focus on something while her brain tried to make sense of it all.

"Why am I here?" Steph asked, looking from me to the doctor. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "What happened?"

Dr. Adams shot me a look, trying to communicate a silent message. She didn't need to worry; I had no idea how to tell Steph what had gotten her here. My mind was racing, trying to catch up.

"Do you remember what day it is?" the doctor asked Stephanie.

Steph struggled to get up and Dr. Adams held her down. "Don't try to move."

Steph sank back, looking exhausted. I still held her hand and squeezed it now.  
"Babe, it's okay," I said.

It was a stupid thing to say, but I couldn't come up with anything better. I was still struggling to keep my emotions in check. The only thing I knew for sure was that I was done sharing my feelings, it was just too risky. Next time, she might get killed. For years, I'd kept my emotions to myself; I just had to go back to it now. But it was hard to not gather her up in my arms and try to explain it all to her.

A nurse held a cup with a straw in it up to Steph's mouth. "Try to drink something, it'll make your throat feel better," she said.

Steph took a sip and I could see it helped. Her senses seemed to be coming back slowly. When the nurse pulled the cup back, Steph looked down at herself, at the bandages and tape. "What happened?" she asked again.

"You were shot," I said and Dr. Adams glared at me.

I'd never believed in sugar coating the truth, and I wasn't going to insult Steph's intelligence now. I knew it was only a matter of time until she would remember anyway, and there was no sense in lying to her now.

"In front of your parents' house, yesterday morning."

Steph frowned in confusion. "Yesterday?"

"You need to rest now," the doctor said abruptly. "You lost a lot of blood, you need to give your body time to heal."

I smiled to myself. Clearly the doctor didn't know Steph. If she thought she could shut her up with that, she had another one coming. It didn't matter that she was right and I agreed, Steph probably needed a lot more rest. I knew she wouldn't give up until she found out.

"But I…yesterday?"

Dr. Adams sighed and I had to hide a smile. Steph may have been physically hurt, but her curiosity hadn't suffered.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Dr. Adams asked with a nod at one of the nurses.

That nurse and the orderly left the room, with a last look at me as if to gauge whether or not I was going to cause trouble.

Steph looked at me, then at her hand in mine, and her brow furrowed. I knew that look, she was thinking hard. Any moment now, I expected he eyes to widen as she relived our conversation and then the shooting.

But she didn't. "Joe called," Steph said slowly, still trying to remember. "He couldn't make it because they were sending him out of town."

That explained why I hadn't seen Morelli yet. He was probably undercover and the news hadn't reached him yet.

"He couldn't make what, Stephanie?" Dr. Adams asked, trying to help.

I already knew. Steph was remembering the night before the shooting, not the day of. I slowly released her hand.

"Lisa's christening," Steph said, smiling. "I remember that. He was sorry about it. But how did I get _here_? I was at home."

Dr. Adams smiled. "Don't worry about it for now. It'll come back. I will give you something to sleep and we'll run some tests later, OK?"

Steph didn't seem convinced. "You need to give yourself some time. You were badly hurt. It'll come back," Dr. Adams explained.

I should have been happy. Steph had just handed me a 'get out of jail free' pass. I'd already decided to keep my feelings to myself from now on, and Steph didn't even remember me sharing them. But instead of happy, I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach.

Had she even noticed I was holding her hand? If she had, there was no reason for her to think it was more than a comforting gesture by a friend.

It was like yesterday had never happened; my little slip up was wiped from memory, literally. Then why couldn't I feel relieved that Steph would never know the difference if I was remote and friend-like to her now?

I had to remind myself that only what was best for Steph mattered, that my feelings just had to remain hidden. Because I had spilled my guts, she'd gotten hurt. It was sheer luck that she was still alive.

I couldn't change what had happened, but I could make damn sure it wouldn't happen again. And I didn't even have to change anything; I just had to stay the way Steph knew me. It was painfully simple.

"I'm not tired," Steph said, although I could tell she was lying, she looked exhausted.

"The doctor is right," I said. "You should sleep. We'll talk about it later."

Steph looked at me for a moment, and I could tell she wanted to argue the point, but her body was betraying her.

"Okay," she finally sighed. "But if you're not here when I wake up to tell me everything, I'll come find you!"

"I'll be here," I said and this time, the doctor's look wasn't a glare.

What I'd meant was, I would try to be there. As soon as she fell asleep, I was going to find out what my men got so far.

When I stepped through the double doors into the waiting area Zero handed me my cell phone. I flipped it open and called the control room.

"Meeting in 1 hour," I told Lester and disconnected.

I would have made it earlier, I was curious to find out why I hadn't gotten any news while I waited for Steph to wake up, but I needed to take a shower and change; I'd been in the same clothes for over 24 hours.

"Okay," I said an hour later, addressing the team in the conference room. "What did you find?"

After I'd told them the good news about Steph, they'd each told me they hadn't contacted me because they didn't consider any of their findings breaking news. I decided to hear what they were able to dig up before I gave them shit for keeping it to themselves for almost 24 hours.

Hector shook his head slowly. "Nada. Everyone l talked to loves you, man."

More like feared my manpower, I figured, his smile told me as much. I knew he'd combed Stark Street and the surrounding area, and he knew who to talk to. If there was so much as gossip about someone after me, he should have heard.

"Anything from the cops?" I asked Lester.

Lester looked at his notes. "One neighbor saw a red late model Chevy speed off, two people inside," he said. "But she couldn't ID them, other than they weren't from the Burg."

I glanced at Hal who'd been in charge of following up on anything the neighbors had witnessed. He cleared his throat.

"They couldn't name the model, but they think they saw Jersey plates on it. There are 5124 red Chevy Malibus, 4287 Aveos and 3254 Impalas registered in Jersey. Those were the three models she said could have been the car. None of them were reported stolen."

He didn't have to add that he hadn't checked out all 12665 owners yet, but he probably feared I would make him. If it turned out to be our only lead, I would.

I shifted my gaze to Woody who was sitting next to Hal. "Report."

Woody took a deep breath and shook his head slowly. "Man, I talked to everyone I know, and pretty much everyone _they_ know. No one called you a name you couldn't repeat in front of your mother. Not recently, anyway."

I chuckled in spite of myself at his way of putting it, then I grew serious when I sensed there was more. I raised a questioning eyebrow.

Woody grinned. "The contract is on Stephanie."

"What?" I asked incredulously. His idea of a sick joke would earn him plenty of double shifts; I'd make sure of it.

Instead of getting serious though, Woody leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers behind his head. "Yup, ten big ones," he said, seeming pleased with himself.

No one else was grinning though, either Woody had waited to reveal this news until now or I wasn't alone in thinking there wasn't anything funny about it.

After a moment, Woody noticed he wasn't going to get any cheers and sobered. He cleared his throat, sitting up straight again.

"Who took out the contract?" I asked, still not believing it. "And who told you?"

"A little tick named Allen told me. Allen The Rat, to be precise," Woody said.

He held up his hands when he was I was going to interrupt. "No, I didn't take his word for it. I checked and double-checked, it's true. As for who, I'm not there yet."

I raised an eyebrow. "Explain."

"Well, it's not someone in the business," he hedged. "They didn't have a name for me, all they said was they didn't know him. No one I talked to had seen him but they were pretty sure it was a guy."

It was still sort of good news, we had something to go on. "Take a team and shake some trees," I told Woody. "Someone's gotta know something."

I turned to Hal. "Work with them on your list of cars. A name comes up, run it against the owners. And talk to Vinnie. Find out who Steph brought in the last couple of months."

"You think one of her drunk and disorderly did this?" Hal wanted to know.

"Find out if someone is holding a grudge," I told him.

"Should I clue the cops in?" Lester asked.

I thought about that for a moment. The cops would work much slower; they'd have to follow proper procedures. In the meantime, they might order us to stay out of it.

"No," I said. "It's all a rumor at this point. No need to add to the cops' workload."

Lester smiled at that. He knew we only worked with the Trenton PD when necessary.

"Anything else?" I asked the room in general.

"Our accounts are quiet," Tank said. "We can spare some more men for this."

I nodded. "Add two men outside St. Francis," I said. "If this is about her, I don't want anyone getting even close."

As the men filed out of the conference room, I sat down and let the news sink in. Someone was after Steph? But why? Who would want her dead?

Hal was right; her FTAs were usually the local drunks or domestic disorder kind, not the organized crime ones. But we had to check it out to be sure.

I couldn't deny it was sort of ironic. The whole time, I'd thought Steph's life was in danger because someone might try to get to me through her.

Now that someone had bought himself a whole slew of enemies because he'd try to get to_ her_.

The bloodlust I'd seen in my men's eyes when Woody shared his news had almost been palpable. I didn't know what they'd do to him once they got him, but I knew it wouldn't be pretty. They all viewed Steph as something of a kid sister, although she was older than most of them. She was their sister no one messed with.

I shook my head and smiled to myself as I got up. Whoever it was, they didn't know Steph, or rather me, very well. There might not be much for the judge to send to jail after we were done with him.

Now that we had a lead, the men wouldn't rest until they had him, and I had no doubt we would get him.

I called the hospital to talk to Steph's nurse, and after she told me Steph was still asleep, I decided to get an hour of sleep myself.

By noon, I was back at the hospital. Steph had been moved out of the intensive care unit onto the general floor, into a private room. This meant my men could now guard her room's door directly, but it also meant any Tom, Dick or Harry could walk right up to it. And if he wasn't alone, it could mean trouble.

Binky and Zero were on duty now. "Anything happen?" I asked them when I got to Steph's room.

"Parents just left to get her clothes," Binky said. "Sister will be back, too."

"No other visitors?"  
"One reporter tried," Binky replied, smiling. "He didn't get far."

"Keep it that way," I said, walking past them into Steph's room.

Steph was awake. She still looked pale and the IV and machines were still there, but she was alive and would be getting better.

"How're you feeling?" I asked her as I grabbed a chair to sit next to her bed.

What I really wanted was take her in my arms and lie down beside her, but I forced myself to keep my distance.

It didn't matter that the killer had been out for her, I'd allowed it to happen. If I'd been my usual self, I could have protected her. So this was the way it had to be. I had to stay away from her to protect her.

"They say I have to stay in here for another week," Stephanie said.

I knew how much she hated hospitals and chuckled. "You _did_ get shot, Babe."

She frowned. "Yeah, I know. Or rather, I see and feel." She gestured at her heavily bandaged midsection. "I still don't remember what happened."

"Shock," I said. "Your mind is trying to protect itself."

"That's what Dr. Adams said, too," she sighed. "But it would be a lot less annoying to know, since I kinda have the evidence it happened."

"Are you in pain?" I asked, glancing up at the drip next to her.

She grinned. "Nah, I feel fine. I love drugs. I meant the corset." She gestured again, as if I could have missed it the first time.

I crossed my arms over my chest to keep me from reaching out to her. If I touched her, I might be tempted to repeat everything I'd said to her before the shooting.

"So what happened?" she asked as if reading my thoughts.

"You got shot," I said.

She glared at me. "I knew that already. Were you there?"  
I didn't want to lie to her. I decided to just omit some things.

"I was there. Your family had just left for the christening, we were standing by your car talking."

She raised her eyebrows. "And?"

'And you got shot,' was what I wanted to say, and that was the truth, after all, but I'd said that already and I knew it wasn't what she was asking.

"And we're still looking for the shooter, I have two men guarding your room as a precaution."

"What were we talking about?" she asked.

Us. Our future. The rest of our lives. I'd have to lie to protect her; there was nothing I could say that wouldn't prompt more questions.

"Ranger? What were we taking about?"

TBC

* * *

A/N: So, what do you think Ranger will tell her? Will he come clean and profess his love? Or will Ranger be Ranger and sacrifice his own happiness to keep her safe? And what do you think he'll do to whoever took out the contract on Steph??


	6. Part 6

Thank you all so very much for your feedback, I really appreciate it! I hope you like this 6th chapter, please let me know what you think either way!

Hartelijk bedankt, Stayce, my editor extraordinaire, and Melody for her great suggestions!

All characters belong to JE

* * *

Hey God!

Part 6

There was a thump at the door, like a body being shoved into it, at that moment. I couldn't help but think of the cliché 'Saved by the bell'. Stephanie's attention was now focused on the shouting we could hear.

I jumped up and was at the door in three long steps, making sure I blocked the doorway as soon as I opened it. Whoever had slammed into the door was no longer at it. Instead, Binky had his knee on the guy face down on the floor, his hands in an iron grip. Zero had his back turned to me, still protecting the door.

It was pretty clear what had happened here, the only question was, who was this guy and what did he want?

"Get off of me, you fucking jerk!" the guy said, his voice muffled by the linoleum he was talking because Binky had him pinned to the floor.

"Let him up," I said, closing the door behind me and standing next to Zero.

The guy got up when Binky released him. He theatrically dusted himself off and glared at all three of us.

"I'll have your ass for this," he said to Binky. "Assaulting an officer on duty, and don't think I won't press charges."

Binky didn't have time to react before Zero said, "No officer on duty ever identified himself to us."

I hid a smile as the guy narrowed his eyes and his face turned red with anger. He reached into his jeans pocket and produced a badge. "Detective Cox. You happy, asshole?"

I didn't recognize him, so I was pretty sure he wasn't a Trenton cop, but his demeanor identified him as an officer more than the badge did, even though he looked pretty young. He'd have a hard time working undercover, I figured, anyone would make him immediately.

I stepped forward. "I'm Ranger Manoso," I said. "My men were acting under my orders. What's your business here?"

"I came to see Stephanie Plum," he said, lifting his head up just a little.

"You're not on the case," I said.

"No," he admitted. "I'm here on behalf of Detective Morelli."

OK, now it made sense. I jerked my head at Binky to stand back. He looked like he was ready to pounce again, cop or not. Although I thought I knew the answer, I still had to ask.

"Why did he send _you_?"

"None of your business," he said curtly and took a step toward me, his eyes on the door behind me.

I crossed my arms over my chest and noticed Zero doing the same, closing ranks. "If you want to see her, it is," I said.

Cox looked first at Zero, then at me, probably calculating his chances against both of us. At about 5'10" and 180 pounds, they were slim to none.

"He's on a case," Cox said, obviously changing his mind about sharing. "We got word to him about what happened, but we couldn't allow him to come here and blow the case."

Knowing Morelli, that probably meant they had to restrain him or fake an arrest to keep him from coming here. I was glad they'd succeeded, that was one confrontation I could do without.

"She's fine," I said. "Recovering from two gunshot wounds, conscious and alert."

Cox shook his head. "I'll need to see her. Please step aside."

I knew he was out of his jurisdiction, but he could probably summon some local uniforms quickly. And other than an instant dislike for the guy, I had no reason to stop him. I half turned and opened the door, stepping through it and holding it open for him.

Cox plastered a smile on his face as he followed me, trying to ignore all three of us.

"Miss Plum, I'm Detective Cox, a friend of Joe's," Cox said as he approached Steph's bed.

I saw the horrified look on Steph's face and realized I hadn't been fast enough to make the introductions.

"Morelli's fine," I said quickly, glaring at Cox, but Steph still looked confused.

"He can't be here himself," Cox said and I almost hit him. He seemed to be totally ignorant to how Steph was feeling.

"For fuck's sake man," I said to Cox. "You sound like you're the honor guard bringing the bad news to the widow."

"Oh," he said and his face flushed.

He finally looked at Steph. "No, no, no, Morelli is fine! He sent me to make sure _you're_ OK!"

Steph looked at me as if to see if I had anything to add to that, then she turned to Cox and her eyes narrowed.

"Then why isn't he here himself?"  
"It's…ah…classified, but…"  
This time, I did shove him. Just lightly, enough to make him take an involuntary step forward. "Tell her what you know."

It took him about a minute, but he finally convinced Steph that Morelli was OK and working undercover, unable to come here without blowing his assignment.

Steph let out a long breath, thanked him and asked him to tell Morelli to call her. Cox promised he would relay the message and made his exit, looking happy that he was done.

She leaned back against her pillows and closed her eyes.

"You OK?" I asked.

"I knew Joe was working undercover," she said. "That guy scared the shit out of me."

That had been pretty obvious. For a moment I wondered if she would have reacted the same way if she'd thought I'd been hurt or killed. I quickly buried that thought. I had to get over it. If nothing else, her reaction proved she'd made her choice.

"Binky and Zero are outside," I said. "They won't let anyone else in. Let them know if you need anything."

And then I turned and left before she could remember I'd left her question unanswered.

I was such a fucking coward. If there was one thing I hated almost as much as murderers and rapists, it was cowards. And I wasn't any better than the scum I usually hunted down, hell, I was worse! I couldn't tell the fucking simple truth!!

Disgusted, I shook my head as I walked past Zero and Binky. I had to get over this, and now.

And the one sure thing I knew would distract me was work. We had plenty of leads; they just needed to be followed. I hit Woody's number on speed dial to get his location; it was time for me to join the team.

"Report," I said when he answered on the second ring.

"Tank and I are on Comstock," Woody said. "Hector and Hal are following up on Stark."

"Any progress?" I wanted to know.

"We're about to make some at Leo Leonard's," he said. "Guy at McShaw's told us he was boasting about being rich soon."

That had potential. "Address?"

"755 Comstock."

"I'll meet you there. Wait outside," I said and disconnected.

I didn't allow myself to think it would be that easy, but maybe we'd get lucky. And even if Leonard wasn't the guy, he could know something. Right now I was hoping he didn't feel talkative and would make me beat the information out of him. I clinched my fists in anticipation as I got in my truck.

Their black SUV was parked half at the curb a block from the address. I pulled behind it and when I got out of my car, Woody and Tank left theirs.

Snapping my utility belt closed, I joined them on the sidewalk. "What've we got?"

"Could be our guy," Tank said. "He's definitely a gun for hire, and he's known for not asking too many questions. Some arrests, nothing more serious than assault, did some time. Easy to find, too, no middle man."

"He left his number with the bartender in case anyone should ask," Woody added and snorted. "He's not exactly low profile."

"Easy to find," I agreed.

Leonard's house was in the middle of a block of row houses, all looking like the next breeze would knock them over. We had to step over trash bags and dog shit on our way to the front door, sending a few rats scattering. Charming.

Woody kept walking to take position at the back door, Tank and I waited at Leonard's front door.

"That's his car," Tank jerked his head towards the curb, towards a rust bucket that may once have been an Accord.

It didn't match the description of the shooter's car, but that didn't discourage me. Cars are easy to come by on Comstock Street.

Woody sent us the signal he was in position by pressing his push-to-talk button once.

There was no doorbell, so I banged my fist against the door three times. It may have been less obvious to knock politely, but I had no patience for that.

I could hear a TV blaring inside, but no other sounds. I banged on the door again. "Open up," I barked for good measure.

A minute ticked by and then we could hear a toilet flush upstairs. Tank grinned, flicked the safety on his gun off and took a step back; he was now standing about two feet away from me, to my left. Footsteps down the stairs, he seemed to be alone.

"Leo Leonard?" I asked when a man wrenched the door open.

I didn't know him and I wanted to make sure I beat up the right guy. Even if he wasn't the man who'd shot Steph, he was the one we were looking for right now.

"Who's asking?" he sneered, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his dirty jeans.

Probably trying to look confident, I figured. Hard to do when you're barefoot and only wearing a pair of pants. Easy to see he wasn't armed.

"I ask the questions," I said. "Mind if we come in?"

And I pushed past him, shoving my shoulder against his so he stumbled back against the open door. Tank stayed behind me.

"Hey," Leonard said and took a step towards me, but he didn't raise his hands. "Whadaya want?"

"You Leo Leonard?" I asked again turning to face him as I put my gun back in its holster.

"Yeah. So whadaya want?" He straightened his shoulders to his full height of about 5'6". He may have weighed about 140 pounds soaking wet. I gave him credit for trying to save his dignity at the sight of Tank and me.

"Let's talk," I said and yanked him into the house by his arm.

I was all for hitting him now and asking questions later, releasing some pent up frustration, but I tried to control that urge. If I let loose, I might accidentally kill him before he could provide some answers.

Tank closed the door and leaned his back against it. Both exits were covered; Leonard wasn't going to go anywhere until I allowed him to. I liked those odds.

The inside of the house was spartanly furnished. Trash in the hallway, a TV on a fruit crate in the living room, a couch that was new 20 years ago in front of it. Stacks of newspapers and mail everywhere.

"Word is you landed a job," I said, pushing him to sit on the couch.

I took a step back to be outside his reach and leaned against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest.

"None of your business," Leonard said.

"Wrong answer," I said, pushing myself off the wall to stand right in front of him. "I just made it my business. Last chance if you want to continue breathing through your nose. Who hired you and what was the job?"

Leonard shook his head. "None of your fucking…"

That's as far as he got before the heel of my hand connected with his nose and I heard the satisfying crunch of breaking bone. Leonard howled and clutched his hands to his face. Hey, I'd warned him.

"The fuck, man!" he groaned.

I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back. His nose was already swelling as blood poured out of it.

"I'm not gonna ask you again," I said calmly, my eyes boring into his.

He held both his hands up in surrender. Part of me was disappointed he didn't put up more of a fight.

"Okay, okay, damn," he said, his voice nasal. "I'll tell you, I'll tell you."

I let go of his head and stepped back. Leonard gingerly touched his nose and winced. Wimp.

He reached into the space between the couch cushions and my hand flew to my gun before I realized he was pulling an old t-shirt out and holding it to his nose.

"I don't know what you heard, or why you're so fucking interested," he said, his voice muffled by the shirt against his face. "I made five grand setting it up is all. I didn't _do_ nothing!" He leaned back and tilted his head up. "Fuck."

"Who paid you and what did you set up?" I asked.

He took the t-shirt away from his face, staring at the blood on it in disgust. "I could've done it myself, of course," he said, stupidly admitting to more than I needed to know.

"But they wanted more credentials." He snorted and winced again when that obviously caused him more pain. "All I did was set up the meeting with Tito Pirelli."

Now I was interested. Tito Pirelli was a known hit man, known for never missing his mark and never leaving enough evidence behind to get fingered. He could really be our guy.

"Who paid you?"" I asked.

"Some broad. I've never seen her before."

"Name?"

"Man, I don't ask names. They pay, that's all I need to know."

I really wanted to hit him again, it had felt good to let go, but what he said sounded true. It wasn't like business cards were exchanged in that kind of meeting. "You got her number?"

Leonard shook his head, grimaced, and put the t-shirt back on his face.

"What'd she look like?" I wanted to know.

"Like a housewife," he said. "Older, like 40s or something. Like she was on her way to pick her kids up from school or something. Man, this really hurts. You gonna get me to a hospital?"  
I scoffed. "If you don't give me her description right now, the only part of a hospital you need is the morgue," I said, hoping Tank couldn't hear the tough guy talk I put on.

Leonard sat up straight and the t-shirt fell into his lap. "Short, blond, brown eyes. That what you wanna hear?"  
"Did she come in a car?"

He shook his head. "Don't know, she met me inside McShaw's. She came in and Billy sent her to me."

"How'd you get in touch with Pirelli?"

His eyes widened and she shook his head. "Aw, no man. I can't tell you, you know that! Pirelli finds out, I'm dead."

"You'll be dead if you don't' tell me," I said calmly, my eyes never leaving his. "And you can hide from Pirelli, but I'm right here."

"Fuck," he mumbled and dug into his jeans pocket. "You can kill me, but Pirelli can do much worse."

Ah, a challenge. Just what I'd been waiting for. I knew Leonard would cave with just some more tough talk, but I was ready for action.

I raised my eyebrow. "Really? Let's see," I said. "Tank!"

Tank appeared in the doorway five seconds later and looked at me expectantly.

"See if he's got a toolbox somewhere. I need pliers."

Tank nodded and turned around while Leonard struggled to get up. He'd either watched enough movies to guess what was coming or had experienced it before. Too bad, I'd gotten excited about a little torture.

"Okay. Fuck. I'm gonna tell you. Fuck."

I shoved him back onto the couch. "Tell me sitting down."

"Found some nails, too," Tank said, returning to the living room. His face was blank as he looked from Leonard to me, but I knew he was enjoying this.

"I said I'll tell you!" Leonard shrieked and tossed me the crumbled piece of paper he'd retrieved from his pocket. I let it fall to the floor.

"Yeah, but I wanna make sure you tell me the truth," I said and took the pliers and nails from Tank. "Hold him down," I said to Tank as I took a step towards the couch.

Leonard's head swiveled from me to Tank and back again. He was sweating now. "That's his number," he screamed, pointing at the ball of paper at my feet. "That's all I know, I _swear_!"

He was telling the truth, I knew it. Torturing him now would just be cruel, and I knew I'd want to justify it to myself later and wouldn't be able to. Maybe Pirelli would be more satisfying.

I stared down at the piece of paper and back at Leonard. He scrambled off the couch and picked up the ball, holding it out to me. I dropped the tools and took the paper.

"Cuff him," I said to Tank. "Woody'll stay with him until it checks out."

I kicked Leonard who was still crouching at my feet and stepped around him. It scared me how much I wanted to hit him just to for the hell of it. I had to remind myself that I wanted to hurt whoever had hurt Steph, and Leonard had gotten his fair share for enabling it. I had to leave it at that.

Outside Leonard's house, I pulled my cell phone off my belt and gave Woody his new orders, then I called the RangeMan control room and read them the phone number off the piece of paper.  
"Check it out. Check if Leonard has a cell phone and made calls to this number too. Now."

I took a deep breath and walked back to my car. Tank came out of the house a minute later, taking his seat next to me. "He's not going anywhere for a while."

"Good," I said.

I didn't have to wait long for Lester to get back to me; my phone rang before Tank had buckled in.

"That number you gave me is for an unlisted cell phone," Lester said. "One of those prepaids. But Leonard's records show he's called it a few times up until yesterday."

"Get me Tito Pirelli's last known address," I said. "And everything we know about him."

I turned back to Tank. "That was kind of fun. You got any more leads?"  
"Leonard was the last," Tank said, shaking his head and smiling. "We ran into two dead ends before we got to him."

I wanted to go back to the hospital to see Steph. But I still didn't know how to answer her. I didn't want to lie to her, but I couldn't tell her the truth either.

Although I knew Zero or Binky would have let me know if anything had happened, I called for an update.

"Her parents are back," Zero said. "Otherwise no visitors."

So she wasn't alone, that was good. I really wanted to see her, but instead, I headed back to RangeMan. Still a fucking coward.

TBC

* * *

A/N: So, what's with Ranger wanting to work out his frustrations with his fists? Sure he's ticked off at whoever hurt Steph and anyone who helped set up the hit, but do you think he's really mad at himself for being a coward where Steph is concerned? If he broke this guy's nose, what do you suppose he has planned for the guy who actually shot her? Will Ranger finally lose control? Or will he man-up and tell Steph the truth?


	7. Part 7

Thank you all so very much for your feedback, you have no idea what it means to me. If for some reason I didn't thank you in person, I really appreciated it. Please keep your suggestions coming, I depend on them...

A special Danke Schoen to Melody for helping me find Ranger's voice and to Stayce for letting me vent and whine

* * *

All characters belong to JE

Hey God!

Part 7

"Something wrong?" Tank wanted to know when we rode the elevator up to the control room.

"Like what?" I asked.

Everything was wrong, but that was none of his business. How would I even begin to explain without sounding like a sappy poof? Real men don't share feelings, that's just the way it is, it's a universal truth.

But Tank had noticed something, and that mean I wasn't controlling my behavior well enough. More proof that I had to get over this, and fast.

"Dunno. Been a while since I seen that side of you, the way you acted with that low life Leonard, is all," Tank said and shrugged.

I didn't reply, there was nothing to say. The elevator doors opened at that moment and I was off the hook. I told Lester I wanted the report on Pirelli as soon as he got it and headed straight for the gym to vent.

An hour later I was drenched in sweat and every muscle ached, but I felt better than I had all day. It wasn't that my behavior had scared Tank at Leonard's house, I smiled at the thought of anything scaring him, and who gave a fuck anyway? No, the problem was _I_ hadn't liked how much I'd wanted to kill Leonard. It had nothing to do with the excuse for a man himself, it was the principle. I should have a higher threshold.

It was my fault of course. First I couldn't help but tell Stephanie that I love her, and then I could hardly control myself with a scumbag. A slippery slope. You're either in control or you're not, there's no middle ground.

And I had to be in control.

I had a company to run and I had men to lead. RangeMan wasn't an Army battalion and my men weren't soldiers, but I was responsible for them just the same.

After a long cold shower, I got dressed and called the hospital again for an update. Of course I could have gotten the whole story with one call, all I had to do was call Steph. Instead I talked to her doctor first, then one of the nurses, then my men outside her room. Pathetic.

Maybe it was time to put space between us, maybe I should move to Miami. I snorted. As if there was any better way to admit defeat than running away. No, I had to deal with it, not avoid it.

The intercom buzzed and I almost sighed in relief, happy about the distraction.

"We found Pirelli," Lester said. "He's at his girlfriend's house in Hamilton Township."

"Who's on him?" I asked.

"Cal."

"Tell Hector and Tank to meet us downstairs in five minutes, and bring the reports. I'll read them on our way over," I said. "Cal stays on him."

Maybe I should have done it the other way around, read up on Pirelli before confronting him, but I had a good feeling about him, he made sense as the shooter.

"We know he owns a red Chevy Impala," Lester said, confirming my suspicion.

"Five minutes," I repeated and took my gun belt off the sideboard.

When the elevator doors opened in the garage, Lester and Tank were already waiting for me. Lester handed me a thick file folder with Pirelli's information.

"You drive," I said to Tank and walked over to the passenger door of the Explorer.

By the time we pulled up in front of Eliza Flagg's house in Hamilton Township, I knew what we'd be dealing with. Pirelli had worked his way up from bag man and was now a bona fide hit man. He'd been arrested a few times, but never convicted, and word on the street was the cops usually didn't find enough evidence to even arrest him.

If he was the one who'd pulled the trigger, the hardest part would get him to tell us who'd hired him. And maybe that would also be the most entertaining part.

455 Stacey Lane was a white brick ranch on a property slightly bigger than a postage stamp. A blue Acura was parked in the driveway in front of the garage; otherwise there were no signs of life.

Tank drove by while Hector stayed behind us, neither of us parked right in front of the house. Standard procedure. Cal's car was parked at the curb facing us, about half a block ahead.

He thumbed his two-way when he saw us. "There's nowhere to go through the back door," he said. "They're both still inside. No one else has come or gone since I got here."

"Lester, I want you in back, Hector, stay put," I said, addressing the whole group.

Tank and I got out of the car and Hector pulled forward just enough to block the car in the driveway, then Lester got out.

"We doing this the civilized way or the new way?" Tank asked half grinning as the two of us approached the front door.

I didn't bother to respond, but I was asking myself that question, too. Would I lose it again like earlier with Leonard? What if he was our guy, the man who shot Steph, the man who almost killed her? It had been very close. If Pirelli was the shooter, would I take him to the cop shop or the morgue?

Fuck. What the hell was wrong with me? I took a deep breath and let it out, fighting the unfamiliar insecurity.

We were on the path to the front door, and I put my hand on the gun at my hip and released the safety. The feel of it let me snap out of it, brought me back to reality.

It was one thing to slap a guy around some; Leonard would have no lasting damage. Pirelli might get some matching bruises, but I knew I wasn't going to kill him. I knew this; I just didn't know why I kept doubting myself.

Tank waited until we heard the chirp of our phones before he climbed the three steps to the front door. I was a step behind him when he rang the bell. A dog started barking at the sound of it and a woman yelled something.

There was a chance Pirelli was heavily armed and had dozens of bodyguards with him. But that wasn't his MO. His profile didn't even list any likely 'business' contacts, he was known to work alone. The only protection we knew of was his unregistered phone number, his official address that was a deserted store front, and aliases. Cal must have done some serious digging to find him so fast, or maybe he'd gotten lucky with a snitch.

"Who is it?" the woman's voice came from behind the front door.

Just as I was about to answer, there was a loud crash from the back of the house. Two gunshots were fired, then three more, but from a different gun.

"Fuck!" both Tank and I said at the same time.

I jumped down the steps and he grabbed his phone to call for backup. There were bushes and flowers all over the lawn, so getting to the back door was like running an obstacle course.

The good news was no one had been hurt. The bad news was Pirelli had gotten away. He'd yanked open the back door and had started shooting two-barreled before he even took the first step, which gave him the split-second advantage over Lester he needed.

Then he'd run towards the back of the lot, directly at the brick wall Cal had seen. What we hadn't noticed was the kids' trampoline that stood between the wall and a shoulder height hedge. Pirelli had charged through the back yard, jumped on the trampoline and had gotten just enough boost to clear the wall.

"Cal, Hector, circle the block, Pirelli's on the loose," I said into the radio.

By now, Lester had dusted himself off and joined me at the wall. "Son of a bitch."

I nodded. "Fair assessment. Let's go."

After Pirelli had made his exit, his girlfriend, Eliza Flagg, had willingly opened the front door. Tank was waiting for me inside, Lester stayed at the front door to keep watch.

I didn't waste time with pleasantries. "I came here for Pirelli," I said to Eliza. "You helped him get away. So I guess I'll take you instead."

"You can't do that," she said, but her eyes widened and she took a step away from us.

According to the report, they'd been dating a couple of years. She was in her early thirties, with blond hair and blue eyes, looking like an aging cheerleader. She was only a few years older than Steph, but could pass for her mother. Didn't look like life had been kind to Eliza. Or maybe it was Pirelli who wasn't kind, and that could mean she'd be willing to talk.

Tank rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest. He was about a foot and a half taller than she and outweighed her by over 100 pounds. We'd never identified ourselves, so she had no idea which side we were on or what we wanted from her or her boyfriend. If she was able to make the 'RangeMan' logo out on our shirts, it probably would mean nothing to her. Good.

Eliza eyed Tank cautiously, then she looked at me. Apparently not finding what she'd hoped for, she sighed and slumped back onto the leather couch in her living room.

"Whatever it is you want from him, I had nothing to do with it," she said. "He told me to answer the door so he could sneak out the back, that's all I know."

"Hmm," I said, pretending to consider what she'd said. Then I shook my head. "Nope, doesn't really change anything. We came here for one…person, we're leaving with one person."

She shifted as if she was uncomfortable and I could tell she was still trying to place us. Former, disgruntled customers? Missed targets?

Her gaze shifted to Tank's gun on his hip, then she picked up a box of cigarettes from the end table, fished one out and lit it. She inhaled deeply and blew out a cloud of smoke as she sighed again.

"OK, what do you want to know?" she asked, looking at me, deflated.

"Well that went well," Tank said sarcastically as we walked back to our SUV a half hour later.

Hector and Cal had lost Pirelli, as I'd pretty much expected after we'd given him the head start. Lester had stayed, watching the house from across the street where Cal had waited for us.

And Sabrina hadn't lied, she didn't know shit. She was Pirelli's fuck buddy, not the one he shared his secrets with. She didn't know any names, not even where he really lived.

"You believe her?" I asked Tank.

He sat down in the passenger seat. "She was telling the truth. She'd make a shitty poker player, you can always tell what she's thinking."

That had been my impression too. So we had gotten nothing. Back to square one.

I banged my hand against the steering wheel to vent some frustration before I started the engine and peeled off from the curb.

"Tell Lester to stay," I said to Tank. "Let's watch her house for a day or two, maybe he'll come back." It was better than nothing, although not by much.

Tank nodded and took his cell phone off his belt to relay the message.

"Time to relieve the guys at the hospital now," I suggested and turned the car into the flow of traffic towards Trenton.

Dr. Adams was at the nurses' desk updating some files when we arrived. Tank went over to Zero and Binky to get the status.

"How's Steph doing, doctor?" I asked her without greeting.

She looked up from her file. "Mr. Manoso," she said and nodded. "I got some reports from the police." She rummaged through Steph's chart.

"They needed x-rays and such to reconstruct the crime scene," she explained as she handed me the report.

"What did they come up with?" I asked. I wanted the summary now, rather than reading through the whole report.

"It's interesting," the doctor said. "I mean, Stephanie was very lucky the bullets missed all vital parts, lucky to be alive at all, but we knew that."

I nodded and motioned for her to continue. She pointed at the report in my hand.

"They did all kinds of measurements, tire tracks or whatever, to get the location of the shooter. They needed to know exactly where the bullets struck her body and at what angle. And when you add it all up, you realize Stephanie was even luckier than we thought. If she'd turned just a few inches in one direction or the other, if her back hadn't been facing the shooter, she wouldn't be here anymore. She must have a guardian angel."

"That's good news then," I said lamely as I was trying to digest the information.

Dr. Adams looked disappointed that I wasn't more euphoric at her news. I thanked her and walked over to my men slowly.

The whole time, I'd been convinced it had been my fault Steph had been shot. That if I hadn't been there at that moment, she would have been fine.

Except if I hadn't been there, Steph would probably have gotten into her car and followed her family to church. The shooter might have driven by just as she'd gotten ready to leave. Or while she was still walking to her car.

She'd been shielding me, the only reason she'd fully turned away from the streets was to protect _me_.

If I hadn't shown up, they would still have come for Steph. And maybe they would have finished the job. So I hadn't made the situation worse, I'd even, in a strange way, helped her.

Of course it had been a coincidence, luck, whatever you wanted to call it. I couldn't allow myself to think it meant anything more than that. Right? I shook my head slowly as the new idea wouldn't go away.

All I knew for sure was that I had to see Steph. Now. Everything else could wait. I nodded at Tank who'd taken up position beside her door, having sent Zero and Binky on their break.

I knocked once before I opened the door, not waiting for an answer. If she was sleeping, one knock wouldn't wake her up. If she was awake, I knew she'd want to see me. And I already knew she was alone, so I wasn't interrupting anything.

Steph already looked better. She was sitting upright, propped up on some pillows, and color had returned to her cheeks. That familiar sparkle had returned to her eyes. I had a feeling they'd have to put up a good argument to keep her in the hospital for a full week. As soon as she could walk, she'd want to get out. And there's no tying her down when her mind is made up, I'd learned that a while ago.

I smiled as I closed the door behind me and walked over to her bed. "How're you feeling?"

"I can't use the bathroom by myself," she said, smiling at me in greeting. "They won't let me."

"Sorry to hear that, Babe," I said. "Better otherwise?"

She nodded. "A little, I guess. I can't get up yet."

"You need to give it some time," I said and resisted the urge to take her hand in mine as I sat down in the chair close to her.

"My parents brought me clothes," she said. "I'm so glad I won't have to wear this paper johnny anymore! Nothing makes a fashion statement like your ass hanging out!"

I knew she was trying for humor, but somehow, her heart wasn't in it. Like there was something else she wanted to talk about. All day, I'd told myself she hadn't noticed how I'd dodged her question. If she brought it up now, I'd have to lie. I hadn't had time to think of a good answer.

There was a stack of folded clothes at the foot of her bed. "Need help changing?" I asked her before I could stop myself.

The images flashing through my mind didn't help my resolve to stay away from her. Steph naked, Steph lifting her arms to let me hold her…kiss her…make her mine. Oh for fuck's sake!

When I looked up I realized I'd missed Steph's answer to my question, but she hadn't noticed it.

She pointed at a black plastic bag on the empty chair on the other side of her bed. "Can you hand me that?"

I stood up and walked over to the other side of her bed to pick it up. It looked like a garbage bag and didn't weigh more than a pound or two. I gave it to her.

"My things," she said and grimaced. "Well, minus the bloody clothes."

I froze. Her things? Everything she'd had on her when she arrived at the ER? Fuck.

"What do you want with them now?" I asked her.

She shrugged. "Just because I'm covered in gauze from the neck down, doesn't mean I can't try to make the rest of me look decent."

She rummaged through the bag and I was trying to come up with a distraction. If she found the necklace I'd given her just before the shooting now, there was nothing I could say.

No lie I could think of would explain it. And she'd know she didn't have it the night before, it wasn't the kind of thing you forgot. Fuck.

"I'll better leave you alone then," I said, moving towards the door. "You probably want to do this in private and I still have a couple of leads to follow up on…"

Steph nodded, still digging through the bag. "It looks like my purse exploded in here!"

I'd almost made it through the door; my hand was already reaching for the doorknob.

"Ranger?"

I knew what she was going to say, just as I knew what she'd found; just by the way she said my name. She was using the kind of tone your wife uses when she finds lipstick smudges on your shirt collar.

"What's this?"

When I turned around she was holding the necklace between her outstretched fingers, the pendant lying on her palm, reflecting the light from the overhead fluorescents.

Damn.

TBC

* * *

A/N: Well, there it is, out in the open. What should Ranger do about it? Should he play it down, lie about it, dismiss it? Or should he fess up, remember why he gave it to her in the first place and tell her??


	8. Part 8

My apologies for taking so long to update, I was celebrating an extended Girls' Weekend, and while a lot of fun was had, my muse took a vacation.

A thousand thank yous to Stayce, my stellar editor, to Lisa for helping out my muse and to Melody for sharing Ranger's mind! I love you guys!

* * *

All characters belong to JE

Hey God!

Part 8

"It's beautiful," Steph said, and now the light the diamonds reflected made her eyes sparkle.

I couldn't take my eyes off her. She was studying the pendant, a small smile on her lips, her eyes big and intent on what they were seeing.

God, I loved her. I couldn't remember what made me think moving away would be a solution. I could never not see her for more than a day. I wasn't going to leave her, that was the easy part.

Now for the hard part. How was I going to stay?

Steph finally took her eyes off the necklace and looked at me, the question written all over her face.

'I don't know, what're you looking at?' would be the easy answer to her question of 'What's this?'. But it would be a lie. I'd never lied to her and I wasn't going to start now.

I closed my eyes for a second and then I walked back over to her bed and took a deep breath. That was all the time I was ever going to get, ready or not.

"I gave that to you," I said, sitting down on the edge of her bed this time.

Her eyebrows raised, but she didn't say anything. I smiled. "Remember that time you told me Lula and you call me Batman behind my back?" I pointed at the pendant. "I thought of you when I saw it."

"You bought this for me?" she asked breathlessly.

You would have thought she was looking at a three carat diamond ring from Tiffany's. she was acting like she couldn't think of anything more beautiful in the world. And she absolutely took my breath away.

I shrugged. "Yes."

"It's beautiful," she said again, holding her hand up so that the pendant swung free between her fingers.

"When did you give it to me? Was I holding it when…you know…when they…"  
"You were wearing it," I said, gesturing towards her neck.

She nodded as if she'd thought as much and held it out to me. "Put it on me again." I took it reflexively.

That should have been a simple enough request. Except I couldn't. I 'saw' her again, in front of her parents' house. I remembered what was said and nothing had changed.

Either I must have pissed off the universe at some point in my life or it had a strange sense of humor, but it couldn't be a coincidence that the moment I tell Steph I want to be with her forever a drive by shooting almost kills her.

It was a wakeup call. I had to stay away from her, if not physically then at least emotionally.

"I don't think…" I said, trying to come up with some kind of excuse.

"You're right," Steph said and for a crazy moment, I thought she'd read my mind. "I'd have to take it off for x-rays and shit anyway. I better wait 'til I get home."

I looked down at the necklace in my hand and I thought about why I'd bought it. I'd told Steph the truth, I'd thought of her when I saw it, but it's not like I'd seen it in a store display somewhere. I'd searched for this, long and hard. It had to be the perfect gift for Steph. To let her know how I really felt.

"I really like it," Steph said, jarring me out of my thoughts. "Thank you."

I nodded and handed the necklace back to her. She placed it on the nightstand and put her head back into the plastic bag. I watched her, waiting for more questions, but she was already distracted. And for some reason that had me suspicious. I had seen the look on her face; she hadn't lied about loving it. She had to have more questions, why wasn't she grilling me with them?

After about a minute, she produced a small compact mirror. "Aha!" she exclaimed and held it up for me to see.

She was smiling triumphantly and it lit up her face. I wondered what she would do if I just kissed her right now. I mean, she was remembering almost everything, she was the same Stephanie I'd kissed a couple of days ago. But would she react the same way? Would she press herself against me, her body hot against mine? Would we make it inside before being arrested for indecent behavior? There was a part of me that still wanted to find out, fuck keeping my distance. But I knew I wouldn't do it, couldn't do it.

"I talked to your doctor," I said, still watching her. "She said you were very lucky."

Stephanie looked up from studying her face in the little mirror. "How lucky? You saved my life, didn't you? Is that what happened?"

I barked a laugh. "No, that's not what happened."

"Did Dr. Adams ask you not to tell me?" she asked, frowning. "She told me I had to remember myself, but you were there, Ranger. Can't you just fill in the few blanks?"

I shook my head slowly; grateful Steph had provided the perfect excuse. "Doctor's orders, Babe."

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. Immediately she sucked in a breath and let her arms drop. I jumped off the bed and leaned down to her. "You okay?"

Steph grabbed my forearm and took a slow breath, as if to test if it would hurt. "I think I'm fine," she said softly. "Just no arm crossing for a while."

My heart rate slowly returned to normal. She no longer looked like she was in pain and I allowed myself to relax. I couldn't describe my feelings when I saw that look of pain on her face, but it was close to panic.

"Do you want me to call the doctor?" I asked.

Steph shook her head, still breathing carefully. "I'll be okay."

"Are you in pain?" What a stupid question! No, Manoso, she holds her fucking side and grimaces because she's enjoying herself so much!

I reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked up and her smile looked forced. "I'm okay now."

I had to fight the urge to take her in my arms. I'd held her before, there was no reason to believe she would make anything of it, but the problem was what it'd do to me.

I'd always been the first to scoff at soldiers who couldn't go into battle without looking at or kissing a picture of their woman. But now I got it. Steph's face was the last thing I'd want to see too. I shook my head to clear it, and now I realized Steph was staring at me. My hand was resting on her neck, my fingers curled into her hair.

"What was the necklace for, Ranger?"

Fuck. I thought she was over that. I had to think fast.

Smiling, I ran my thumb over her jaw. "I think you'll remember soon." Short of lying, that's all I could come up with.

Steph rolled her eyes and covered my hand with hers. "I think you remember _now_."

"Babe." I still had nothing. Why couldn't my phone ring? Why didn't Tank interrupt us already?

Then finally, I got an idea. I was thinking about what Steph's doctor had said, about the investigation and that led to…

"I need them to be all your own memories. We think we know who the shooter was, but maybe you really saw him."

Steph didn't look convinced. She still held my hand, her skin icy on mine. "Maybe if you tell me about the necklace I'll remember."

Shit, that one was hard to argue. "You're cold," I said, sliding my hand over her neck.

My fingers ran over the sensitive spot behind her ear and she closed her eyes for a beat. If you can't convince them…

I wasn't playing fair, but I wasn't lying. And until I got my story straight, that's as good as it was going to get.

"I gotta go," I said.

"You just got here," Steph pointed out.

"I think we have a lead on the shooter," I said. "I just stopped by to see how you were doing."

"Who is it?" she wanted to know. "I've been racking my brain here, trying to come up with anyone I might have pissed off ever since the cops asked me."

I was sure my men would have told me if Steph had had any visitors. "When did you talk to the cops?"

"They called a couple hours ago," she said, motioning towards her cell phone on the nightstand. "And they wanted to know if I had any enemies."

"And do you?" I asked her, raising an eyebrow.

She snorted. "I told them I'd make a list."

"I think they meant enemies in the sense of people who'd want you dead," I said.

"I know," she said. "I wanted to do something, I need to help. I feel useless lying around like this."

"You got shot," I said. "Makes for a good excuse to lie around."

She smiled again and again I resisted the urge to just grab her and kiss her. "It drives me crazy though," she said.

"For now, just let me do the work, okay?" Unable to take my hand off her, I ran my thumb over her cheek.

"Will you let me know if I can help?" Her big blue eyes bored into mine and I would have promised anything at that point.

"I will," I said and before I could stop myself, I leaned down and kissed her hair.

Now my phone buzzed and I took it off my belt with a last look at Steph. "Call me," she said gesturing with her thumb and little finger for emphasis and I nodded as I answered my phone.

I had no way of knowing if the call was confidential, it just made for a good exit. A fucking coward's exit, but what the hell.

"How's she doing?" Tank asked when I stepped out of Steph's room and closed the door behind me.

I gave him the '1 minute' signal and finally got to take the call. It was a RangeMan client, dissatisfied with our service, wanting to meet me in person. After I'd promised them a call back as soon as I got the office, I hung up and turned back to Tank.

"Better," I said to him. "I don't think they'll be able to keep her in here the whole week."

Tank grinned at that. "I'd like to see anyone try and make her do what she don't want." He jerked his head in the direction of the elevators. "Shift change should be here at 15:00."

I checked my watch, it was ten of three. I hadn't realized how late it was.

"Trouble?" Tank asked, pointing at the phone still in my hand.

"Terrasol," I said. "We're gonna meet with them tomorrow, most likely." Like I had any time for that. But I did have a company to run. Since I wanted Tank with me, there was no one at RangeMan who could take over.

We waited until Manuel and Cal arrived for their shift and received their instructions, then we drove back to Haywood. With nothing whatsoever accomplished. And the shooter still out there, unnoticed. A whole day wasted.

It took me two hours to get through the paperwork that had accumulated in the past couple of days since the shooting. I called Lester three times for an update, but Pirelli hadn't resurfaced yet. The only progress we made was another snitch who fingered Pirelli, so at least we were pretty sure we had the right guy.

I ran my fingers through my hair and blew out the air in a frustrated sigh. I was too involved in this one; I had the urge to shake Santos until the updates came out of him. This waiting for information was killing me, because I didn't know if he was still after Stephanie, if he still considered her a job unfinished.

At six I called Manuel for an update. They were supposed to check in every hour with the control room, but I wanted to hear it first hand. There was no answer, so I called Cal next.

"Perimeter compromised, send backup," he said and disconnected.

That was our equivalent to a code red. There hadn't been time to ask him any questions, so it could mean anything. Maybe there was an intruder in the hospital, maybe Cal and Manuel had been shot. Steph was in danger.

I was on my feet and out the door within a second. "Backup to St. Francis," I said as I jogged through.

"The code came in two minutes ago," Lester confirmed. He was already fastening his gun belt.

Tank and Hector joined us at the elevator. "What happened?" I asked Lester.

He shook his head. "Not sure. Everything was fine at the check point 23 minutes ago. Then the distress code came in at 1757. The hospital hasn't called the cops, so it could be a targeted attack."

My stomach dropped and my mouth went dry, but I forced myself to stay calm. Cal and Manuel were there, plus the hospital security. There's no way one or two attackers could have overwhelmed them all. Unfortunately we had to extract the exterior team earlier, to help out at another account. Probably they had the situation under control by the time we got there. But it couldn't hurt to hurry.

I made a mental note to buy kojak lights at the next opportunity. We weren't allowed to use them, but in an emergency like this one, they could save us time. Fuck the ticket we'd get from the cops.

Without them, we were stuck in Trenton's rush hour. And I had to focus hard to breathe and appear calm when I was _this_ close to ripping the car door off and running the rest of the way, just to get there. Lester kept calling Manuel while Tank tried Cal, they didn't get an answer.

I picked up my own phone and called Steph directly. It rang three times before it was picked up. Nothing was said for a moment, it just sounded like clothes rustling.

Then a man's voice announced "This line is no longer in service," and hung up.

I could still hear the amusement in his voice as my hand dropped to my lap and my blood ran cold.

"Go faster," I instructed Tank.

Tank broke a dozen traffic laws to get us to the hospital as fast as possible. As soon as he'd slowed down enough in front of the entrance, I jumped out of the SUV, Santos close behind me. I knew Tank would find us or wait for the others to arrive.

The ER was business as usual and we got a lot of curious looks as we rushed through to the bank of elevators. The public elevators were in service but there was a hospital security guard standing in front of the personnel elevator. You needed a badge to work that elevator and it was the first time I'd seen anyone guard it. I didn't want to waste the time right there and then to question the guard though.

That's when Santos's phone rang. 'Manuel', he mouthed as soon as he picked it up.

I pressed the elevator button, thinking I'd give it 30 seconds to arrive before I took the stairs up to the 5th floor.

Lester was still listening to the caller when the door to the staircase was pulled open and Cal came out. He saw me and I could read panic in his expression. What the fuck was he doing, leaving his post?

"Report," I barked at him.

His eyes widened and now he looked positively scared. I could hear Santos snapping his phone shut behind me just as the elevator doors pinged open.

"We..uh..have a…ah…situation, Boss," Cal stuttered.

I wanted to kick his nuts off. ""What happened?"

"Fuck man, they lost Steph," Santos said.

I pulled Cal with us into the elevator and hit the 5 button. Turning back to Cal, I narrowed my eyes. "You have five seconds to give me the full report."

Cal shrunk against the elevator wall, beads of sweat showing on his forehead. "She…she was going for a test, a..an MRI or something."

"Three seconds."

"They…they took her in one of the personnel only elevators, we couldn't come with," Cal said, still avoiding eye contact. "So we took the stairs." Now he looked at Santos as if hoping for backup.

I had to cross my arms over my chest to avoid hitting him. I didn't know what was worse, the fear for Steph or the anger at Cal.

"But she wasn't there! When we got to the third floor, the elevator…it was…there was only her gurney in there!"

"Manuel is on the top floor, going room to room," Lester provided.

"I was just about to start at the bottom," Cal said.

Unbe-fucking-lievable. They had lost Steph, and they had no idea where – or with whom – she was. Killing Cal might not solve anything, but it sure as hell would have made me feel better. Fortunately for him, the doors opened on the fifth floor at that moment, and Lester all but shoved him out.

I had to do something, and fast. We'd already lost too much time. I forced myself to take a deep breath before I followed Cal and Lester out to the hall. There were half a dozen hospital security staff on the floor, not looking like they knew what they were doing.

"Give me the details," I said, although I could already put it together from what I'd heard.

But I was hoping to get any kind of clue they might have missed from a play-by-play. Had I really thought coming up with a good story why I'd given Steph the necklace was my biggest problem? Fuck.

TBC

* * *

A/N: See, he told her!! OK, not the whole truth, I know, but as much as I could weasel out of him. Now for the tricky part: Will Ranger get another chance? Will he find Steph in time before she gets hurt or…worse?? Do you think he should?


	9. Part 9

Thank you all so very much for your patience. RL threw me for a big loop this past couple of months and the muse just packed her stuff and fled.

This was supposed to be the final chapter, but I just couldn't wrap it up. Since I still wanted to post before Christmas though, there will be another chapter…

I appreciate all the reviews I've received, thank you very much. I apologize if I didn't get to thank you in person. I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas, Frohe Weihnachten, Prettige Kersdagen, Joyeux Noel and overall HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

This chapter would not have been possible without a little (OK, a lot of) help from my friends: Lisa, who gave me the idea. Melody, for sharing her muse with me and pointing me in the right direction. And Stayce, for editing, understanding what I was trying to say and putting it into plain English. I love you guys!!

* * *

All characters belong to JE

Hey God!

Part 9

Cal was almost running to keep up with me as I raced down the hallway to get to Steph's room. I had to see for myself that she was really missing.

"Okay," he said. "At 17:38, Steph alerted the nurses because she was in pain."

I pushed the hospital room door open, trying really hard and almost failing to focus on his report, detach myself from it, treat it as just information about a case. I knew I needed the details so I wouldn't waste time on the search, but it was hard.

Cal took a deep breath continued, "The doctor wanted to take her for an MRI or something."

There was no one in Steph's room; her purse and the black trash bag were still sitting on the chair next to her bed.

"Which doctor?" I asked. If he was going to tell me he didn't know I'd have to kill him. So much for my detachment.

"Dr. Adams, her doctor."

I relaxed. "Who took her?"

"Two nurses," Cal said at once. "They're part of the regular staff, we checked them out."

"Did you go with her?" I asked him.

I took a closer look around, trying to find something different, a clue. Her cell phone wasn't on the nightstand.

I spun around to face Cal. "Who was in this room after she left?"

He took a step back and I quickly tried to turn my expression emotionless again, since he looked like he was going to piss himself.

"No...no one," he stuttered.

"Wrong," I ground out between clenched teeth and shoved past Cal and Santos on my way back out the door.

Steph would have taken her whole purse or nothing; she wouldn't have grabbed her cell phone.

"Go on," I said, scanning the hallway, looking for any unfamiliar face.

"We followed her to the elevator," he waved at the bank of elevators now behind us. "They took the staff elevator, we weren't allowed on."

I groaned inwardly. Why had I left? No way would I have let Steph get on without me. My men should have known better too, but what good would pointing that out do now?

"We took the stairs," Cal continued. "When the elevator hadn't arrived by the time we got to 5, Manuel went back. I waited upstairs, the car arrived without them. Her gurney was still in it, the two nurses were knocked out."

"Did you alert security?" I wanted to know.

We were wasting time while he was filling me in. Only two of my men were going floor to floor at the moment.

Cal gestured toward a uniformed guard by the elevator. "That's Martinez, head of security. They're checking the tapes now."

I nodded and turned to Santos. "Check every inch of tape starting at 16:37."

My phone rang as I walked back to the elevators. "Talk."

"Parking lot's clean," Tank said. "Not even skid marks and no one saw anything. I called in another team."

"Okay," I said. "We're gonna comb the whole place. Get every available man."

I disconnected and looked at the guard. "How many guards are on this floor, who called them and when did you arrive?"

His eyes widened as he looked from me to Cal. He was short and stocky and looked old enough to retire.

"I…" He swallowed and took a deep breath. "Three of us. I was called up from the second floor about a half hour ago."

I noticed he kept his eyes trained on something behind me rather than looking at me and decided none of them would leave the hospital until we had their backgrounds checked.

"I want every member of your team accounted for and questioned," I said to Martinez. "Report anything out of the ordinary back to me."

I didn't wait for his answer as I turned to Cal. "Check the records. Then join Manuel on the floor-by-floor."

As soon as Tank reached us, we assigned each team of two a floor. I had no time to wait for the elevator, pounding up the stairs to start at top floor.

A half hour later we had searched every nook and cranny on the administrative floor, and ignored countless glares and protests from personnel, but hadn't found Steph. Cal called me after questioning security and checking the records. We knew one security guard was missing, the ones that were present all checked out. Cal had run the missing guy's file and it hadn't brought up anything except that he was the last to join the team. His boss had seen him at the beginning of the shift, but hadn't paid attention afterwards. I sent a man to his house to check it out, just in case.

By now we knew how it had been done: the elevator had doors on both sides. He must have jimmied the door mechanism and got on through the back when the front doors had just closed and Manuel and Cal were on their way upstairs already. The nurses hadn't noticed much else since it had "all happened so fast". They both said he'd been wearing scrubs and might have been Pirelli, they hadn't really looked at him.

It seemed like Steph had vanished into thin air.

No one had seen her or anyone looking suspicious. Of course, a nurse with a patient on a gurney or in a wheelchair wouldn't really have registered. Knowing Steph, she would have kicked and screamed, so he must have knocked her out. He was smart, alright.

And I had no one to blame but myself. If I'd stayed, I would have been on that elevator with her. I'd failed her again.

In the Army, I led dozens of missions and I never lost a single man. We even came back without any wounded from some jobs. And yet, when it came to protecting a single woman, something kept going wrong. Sure, Steph attracted danger like a magnet, but that was no excuse.

That night, before I told her, I was convinced that being with her was the right thing. Then she'd gotten hurt trying to protect me, in an ironic twist by a guy who was after _her_. So I figured if I stayed away, she'd be safe. Wrong again. I just couldn't win. I took a deep breath and forced all feelings to the background. What mattered was to find her and fast.

We were on our way back to the bank of elevators and the staircase when my phone rang. I glanced at the display and froze. It was Steph's number. I signaled Tank to get a trace going and pushed the talk button after the third ring, when Tank had made contact with the control room. We wouldn't be able to pinpoint her location, but we'd be able to tell if she was still in this area.

"Carlos, it's Stephanie," she said, her voice sounded like she was trying to appear normal.

That's my girl. Steph never calls me Carlos. I knew what she was going to say next would be what she was told to say.

"We're looking for you," I said, my tone neutral. I strained my ears to hear any background noise, maybe find out where she was.

"Oh, you know me and hospitals. I had to get out of there." She laughed nervously. "Just calling to let you know I'm okay. Tell my parents and Grandma Meiser, too."

Just in case I'd missed the first one, another clue.

"Are you home? Or do you want me to take care of your cat?" Got your message, loud and clear. Now tell me where you are, Steph.

There was a little echo, as if she was in an empty room, or maybe a large hall, other than that, no background noise.

"No, no, he'll be fine. I'll tell Dillon to take care of her until I get back," she said, laughing that strange laugh again.

Dillon, her super? What the fuck did he have to do with this? She had to give me more.

"Gotta go. I love you, Carlos." And she hung up.

"Not enough time to get a trace," Tank said when I clipped the phone back onto my belt.

"I know," I said and almost kicked the door to the staircase open. "Let's start at the bottom."

On our way down, teams kept checking in with their progress reports. Or rather, lack of progress reports. One floor after another, they came up empty handed.

It had to be the basement, I was almost sure. And then it hit me. Steph had given me the reason I was so sure: Her super lived in the basement, that had to be why she'd mentioned him.

And if you had to hide someone in a hospital, the basement, housing the morgue, is the least traffic-intense place. It made sense.

"Get security down there," I told Tank. "I want every door unlocked."

He nodded and made the call just as we were leaving the second floor. We could have taken the elevator down, but I had no patience to wait even a second, so we took the stairs.

A tall guy met us at the fire door of the basement floor. If he hadn't been wearing the dark blue security uniform, he could have passed for a college kid. The small metal nametag above his left breast identified him as Holden.

"You have keys to all doors?" I asked, taking the gun off my belt and flicking the safety off.

"Yeah, but…ah…I can't just open them for you without …uhm…autho…authorization."

Tank pulled his gun and held it up in front of the kid's face. "Consider this our all access pass," he said.

Holden looked from me to Tank and I could see he wasn't about to argue with that. I couldn't believe a cheesy line like that worked, but as long as it got us where we needed to be, I didn't give a shit. The security guard swallowed and stepped aside.

Because we weren't expecting as many people on this floor, we were doing this the right way: No knocking on doors, no strolling down the corridor; if the guy was hiding Steph down here, we'd take him by surprise.

Tank and I were communicating by eye contact and gestures only. One nod, he raised his gun to cover me as I slowly opened the door.

I raised my finger to my lips, hopefully telling Holden to stay quiet, and slid through the door, pressing myself against the hallway wall.

I'd been right, it was empty down here. Not a soul to be seen.

It was quiet down here too, and we both listened for any sounds. There were fourteen doors off the hallway, seven on each side.

I pointed to the door on our left, then at Tank, then I jerked my head over my shoulder and pointed at me. He understood that we were splitting up, each taking one room at a time.

And now the feeling was stronger than ever, what Steph sometimes called her spidey sense, just that gut feeling that we were on the right track. He was here. And he had Steph.

The security guard still stood in the open fire door, looking completely lost. Tank tried the first door, and it was locked. Obviously he didn't think the guy was too bright since he didn't gesture for Holden to unlock the door, he just pulled him over by his shirt collar and pointed at the door knob. The guard took his key chain off his belt and the jingling echoed off the empty walls. He fumbled with them for a second and then dropped them. They hit the floor with what sounded like a small explosion in the quiet. Tank took a deep breath, probably to restrain himself, and picked the key chain up before Holden had made a move.

"I got it from here," he said, his voice quiet but unmistakably final. "Guard the door from the staircase side."

Holden hesitated for half a second; weighing the trouble he might get into with his boss versus the trouble Tank might cause him now, no doubt, and then turned and disappeared through the fire door.

Tank shot me a look. "Civilians," he whispered and then turned to find the right key and unlock the door.

We got through two supply closets and two abandoned labs, alternating the key chain between us, and found nothing.

Next was the morgue. The door was unlocked and when we entered, a technician looked up from the corpse on a slab he was working on.

All I could see of the body was the familiar dark curly hair. We were too late!

It took a minute, but I finally got myself enough under control to override what my eyes tried to convince my brain it was seeing.

I closed my eyes and then took a second look. From the shape under the sheet it was clear the woman was much bigger than Steph.

"You can't…" the technician began, but by then, he'd gotten a look at Tank

and I, and our weapons, and fell silent.

"This won't take long," Tank said.

The technician raised his gloved, blood smeared hands and took a step back. I watched him closely. For all I knew he could be the one we were looking for, trying to throw us off by wearing a lab coat.

Tank stepped over to the drawers on the wall and opened them one by one. Three were occupied, all dead people, none Steph.

"What's in there?" I asked the technician, indicating the door behind him.

"Closet," he said. "Supplies."  
When I took a step towards it he hurried to add, "But there's nothing in there."

As if on cue, there was the sound of wood hitting concrete, like a broom handle hitting the floor. I was over at the door in two strides, turning the knob. I barely noticed the technician making a run for it and practically bouncing off of Tank's chest.

I'd been the last one to open a locked door, so luckily I held the key chain while Tank was busy restraining the guy. It took long seconds for me to find the right label and then to unlock the door.

As soon as I pulled the door open, Steph tumbled out. And in a scary re-enactment of the time I found her at Stiva's, she seemed lifeless. I just barely caught her before her head hit the floor. The front of her white hospital gown was soaked with blood, her hands were tied, and her eyes were closed.

I pushed the hair away from her neck and pressed my fingers to her throat, searching for a pulse. I couldn't breathe and my heart might have stopped for a beat until I felt it against my fingertips, steady and strong.

"Stephanie," I said, cradling her head.

She didn't respond.

Behind me a metal pan hit the floor with a loud bang, and that ended the short struggle Tank had had with the 'technician'. Two seconds later Tank was kneeling by my side. "She OK?"

"Get a gurney," I told him. "We need to get her upstairs. And get him taken care of," I jerked my head over to where the guy in the lab coat lay unconscious, his hands cuffed behind is back. I was going to deal with him later. The fact that I couldn't deal with him right now would probably save his life.

Steph was very pale, but her skin was warm and she was breathing, and that had to be enough for now. I'd found her. She was safe.

A few minutes later, nurses arrived with a gurney. One of them, a male nurse, moved to take Steph from me, I just ignored him as I lifted her up onto the gurney.

"We'll take care of her," the other nurse said and I nodded.

I didn't doubt them, I just wasn't going to let Steph out of my sight again. I'd just found her, she wasn't going anywhere without me. They both looked at me, then at each other, and when the male nurse shrugged I knew they weren't going to argue.

Until she woke up and I could make sure she was OK, I wasn't going to leave. What if this time, she forgot more than just a few hours, what if this time she wouldn't even remember me? Would I ever have the guts to tell her how I felt about her, rather than wait for her to remember? I didn't know, but I knew I was done running, done leaving her.

TBC

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A/N: I'm sorry. This was supposed to be the last chapter, but I've been working on it for over a month and I just wanted to make sure I got something out before Christmas. So there will be more. And this isn't even a cliff hanger!!

What do you think? Is Steph OK?? HEA??? Will he tell her or should she remember on her own??


	10. Part 10

I am so sorry it took me so long to update. I wouldn't be surprised if many of you thought I'd abandoned this story. RL hasn't been kind to me and the muse just packed her shit and left.

And would you believe it, I was unable to wrap it up this time. Again. So there will be another chapter.

Thank you all so very much for your reviews. If I didn't get to thank you in person, I really appreciated your feedback.

A special thank you to Stayce, my extraordinary friend and editor, and to Lisa for sharing her great ideas with me.

* * *

All characters belong to JE

Hey God!

Part Ten

It was seventeen minutes and forty-nine seconds before she opened her eyes, and I counted every second of that time. I wasn't a man that prayed, but during that time, I came pretty close. Maybe it was the fact that almost losing her twice within 48 hours was too much even for me, maybe it was the fact that I'd realized I wanted her in the rest of my life, I don't know _what_ it was. All I know is a sense of relief I couldn't remember ever feeling before when she looked at me again.

"Ranger?" she asked, he voice weak and hoarse.

"I'm here," I assured her, squeezing her hand.

She recognized me. I wasn't sure if I could have handled a blank look and a 'Who are you?', not again.

"What…" she swallowed and took a breath, "happened?"

She looked around the ER treatment room, took in the nurses, the monitors and machines. The doctor was scribbling notes on her chart, now that she was stabilized. He looked like he knew what he was doing when he'd assessed Stephanie, even though he couldn't have been more than a year or two out of med school.

I'm sure everybody in the room expected me to lie to Steph or at least sugar-coat what had happened, but they didn't know her the way I did. Steph hates being lied to, even if it's for her own good. And I couldn't care less what the staff thought, Steph mattered.

"You were kidnapped," I told her and I heard the nurse closest to her suck in a breath. "But you're safe now, you're gonna be okay. How're you feeling?"

"My head hurts," Stephanie said and tried to lift her hand.

"It's a hangover from whatever your attacker used to knock you out," the doctor said, taking a step closer. "Stephanie, I'm Dr. Weston. We're waiting on the results from the blood test to determine what it was he used. We just know it was some kind of gas because he knocked out the two nurses that were with you the same way. But they were already released, they're fine by now."

"They were taking me to x-ray," Steph said slowly.

She remembered. No short-term memory loss this time. Maybe the shooting had been more traumatizing than the kidnapping? I refused to believe it was fate, or karma, or whatever you want to call it.

After they were sure Steph hadn't pulled any stitches form her gunshot wounds, she was brought back upstairs to her room. My phone rang just as the last nurse was leaving. The call was from Steph's number.

For a split-second, I was confused. I looked at her, even though I was standing next to her and knew she wasn't calling me. By the second ring, I had regained control.

"I'll be right back," I told her as I turned towards the door. Whoever it was, and whatever he had to tell me, I didn't want Steph to hear. She had enough stress for one day.

Zero and Manuel were outside, guarding her room. They hadn't received any orders to withdraw from me, so they were still on the job.

"Track this call," I said to Manuel, just as my phone rang a third time.

I waited for him to connect to the control room, then I picked up. "Talk."

"I want to talk to Stephanie," he said.

The same guy as before. Pirelli? I already knew the guy in the basement hadn't been him although I'd only seen a mug shot of Pirelli. Then again, we couldn't be 100 percent sure Pirelli was our guy, not until we caught him.

"Not a chance," I replied, keeping my voice emotionless.

If I got my hands on this guy, I was going to skin him alive and feed him to the dogs, but first I had to find him. And I needed his help for that, he had to give me something.

"Manoso, you can either let me talk to her now or I'll find other ways to get her attention. It's your choice."

Maybe I was too military, but I had a strict 'no negotiation' rule. I would have just hung up but I knew I needed to keep him on the line longer to at least get the tower closest to him.

"Whatever you have to say to her, you can tell me," I said.

There was a pause, and I expected him to hang up. Instead, I heard him take a long breath and when he spoke, there was a smile in his voice.

"Tell her this isn't over. Money was exchanged, I'm a man of honor." And then he disconnected.

I looked up at Manuel. "Tell me you got something!"

Manuel held up his hand to signal me to wait as he listened to the report from the control room.

"Tower in downtown," he said as he flipped his phone shut.

Not good enough. Downtown meant millions of people, thousands of houses. We had nothing to go on.

"I'll be back in five," I told him. "By then have an update from everyone."

Manuel was back on his phone before I turned to go back into Steph's room. Good man.

This one had been too close. We had to catch the motherfucker and make him pay. And then maybe hand him over to the cops. With a tip to Detective Morelli of course. I smiled at the thought of what his chances were of ever making it to trial.

"How're you feeling?" I asked Stephanie as I entered her room.

It seemed like I was asking her that a lot these days. She looked worse for the wear, definitely worse than yesterday, but I had the doctor's assurance she would be OK.

"How're _you_ feeling?" she asked me back. "I know I must look pretty bad, but I have an excuse. When's the last time you slept, Ranger?"

I couldn't remember. Sunday night maybe? A couple of hours for sure. She had a point.

"I'm not the one with the gunshot wounds," I said. Pretty lame.

She looked at me and our eyes locked. "Is there something you're not telling me?"  
Where to begin? I felt like a schizophrenic. One minute I wanted to tell her everything, put the necklace on her and explain what exactly it meant. And the next minute I wanted to turn back the clock and keep my distance from her, never tell her how I felt, and get over it.

"We're pretty sure we know who shot you," I said, sitting down in the visitor's chair next to her bed.

That at least was something I hadn't told her that I felt confident I could share now.

"Who?" she wanted to know.

"His name is Tito Pirelli. A well known gun for hire. A hit man."

Her eyes widened. "A _Family_ hit man?"

"No," I said. "A free lancer. Works for anyone who pays him."

"Who paid him?"  
I shook my head. "Don't know yet. I have my men working on it. Did you ever complete your list?"

"I tried," Steph said. "Before…you know, the latest interruption." She rolled her eyes. "But I can't think of anyone who'd want me dead. Give me the finger maybe, but shoot me? That's so…" She looked at the ceiling, trying to find the right word.

"Serious?" I supplied.

"That too," she said.

She threw back the covers and pushed one of her legs over the edge of the bed. I jumped up.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting up," she said. "I can't just lie here and wait while someone wants to kill me."

I wasn't really surprised. Actually, she was right on schedule. If she hadn't been knocked unconscious, she would have tried to leave earlier in the day. Might as well try to tell a herd of cats to stay put. Of course that didn't mean I could let her, she needed a lot more rest and professional care that she could only get here.

I put my hand on her leg and gently lifted it back onto the bed, trying not to feel her soft warm skin. "No."

"I want to help," she argued.

"I know. It would help if you got some rest."

She rolled her eyes. "Look who's talking."

I didn't reply, I just looked at her, unable to take my hand off her bare leg.

Finally she sighed and pulled the blanket back up over her midsection. "Fine."

My guess is she felt some pain as she tried to get up, that's why she gave in so easily. I took it.

"Manuel and Zero are outside if you need anything," I said. "I have to go."

And before I could stop myself, I bent down and kissed her. I meant to kiss the top of her head, but she lifted it at that moment and my mouth touched hers.

And it wasn't our first kiss by a long shot, but still, I tried to pull away quickly before my body could react to the feeling of Stephanie so close.

This time, she was faster. She fisted my shirt in her hand and pulled me closer to her before I got a chance to pull back and I felt Steph's soft lips part under mine like an invitation.

A bolt of electricity shot through me when our tongues met and I could have sworn I felt her moan into my mouth.

"I gotta go," I said again and finally managed to take a step back.

"OK," she said and left it at that, although she was eyeing me curiously.

What the fuck was I doing? I turned and got out of her room without looking back, fighting the urge to ram my head against the nearest wall.

"We got a hit, Boss," Manuel said as I closed the hospital room's door behind me. "Three possible matches for the description of the woman who hired Pirelli."

"Among Steph's FTA's?" I asked and he nodded.

All available RangeMen were working around the clock on the leads we got so far, along with keeping their ears open on Stark Street and surrounding areas. They were checking car owners of all Toyotas witnesses thought they saw at the crime scene, and they were going through all of Steph's records to see if they could turn up anything.

"Don't let anyone in here except family and personnel from the list," I said to Manuel. "And if they make her leave the room you do not let her out of your sight, understood?"

"Yes, Sir," both men replied and took their positions while I was already halfway to the elevators.

I hit Tank's number on the speed dial before I got to the first floor. "Fill me in."

While I drove back to RangeMan, Tank brought me up to speed. "It took us so long because we didn't have much to go on. Leonard said short, blond, brown eyes, about forty, remember?"

I did. I also remembered he'd willingly given up this information after I'd broken his nose. "Who do you have?"

"Three women matched the description, but only one has the kind of cash and a motive: Maria Cenetta."

I went through my mental list of names. "The last name rings a bell."

"You know Julia, her daughter," Tank said. "You staked out her house looking for Kenny Mancuso years ago."

"I remember the address," I said. "Meet me there."

"She should be there, her shift doesn't start for another three hours," Tank said and we disconnected.

I hooked a u-turn in the middle of the intersection to wind my way back to the Burg. If Maria Cenetta wasn't home, I'd wait as long as it took.

What Tank didn't have to remind me of was that she was a nurse. At St. Francis hospital. With access to all the patients' rooms. Her name should have come up a long time ago!

I speed dialed the control room when I was a couple of blocks away from the Cenetta house. "Someone pick up that turd Leonard and bring him over to the house. I don't have time for a 'he said, she said'" I told Lester. This would be quick and painless for a change.

I was the first one to get there. A grey compact car that may once have been black stood in the driveway, no other signs of occupancy. I parked a couple of car lengths away and studied the Cenetta residence and the neighbors' houses. This was a strict middle class neighborhood, if anyone ever hit the big one, they moved away to Hamilton Township or other places. There was no big money here. Maria Cenetta didn't have millions in the bank, she didn't even have thousands, we'd checked. So why? Were we following the wrong track, wasting time?

Tank pulled up behind me, parked and got out of his car. He walked over to me and sat down in the passenger seat. "She fits the description," he said.

I blew out some air. "So do a thousand other women in a five mile radius."

"She's the only one who just took out a second mortgage and hates Steph though."

I motioned for him to continue. I didn't have time to play 20 questions.

"Connie was busy for us," Tank said. "She was the one who followed up with everybody. You know how everyone knows everyone in the Burg?" I nodded.

"Well Maria has been telling everybody how Steph destroyed her daughter's life."

Maria's daughter was dating Kenny Mancuso at the time he decided to maim and kill his friends. Stephanie had made sure he went to jail for it, but the guy was a sicko who in another few years would have added cheating and wife-beating to his resume for sure. I scoffed. "She did the daughter a favor."

"Not how the mother sees it," Tank said.

"And she was the insider at St. Francis," I added, and Tank nodded. "I feel so good about this, I'd put money on it."

He was right, it fit. But I needed proof.

A few minutes later, Cal and Junior pulled up in front of the Cenetta row house. They had Leonard with him. His nose was taped with gauze and there were purple bruises under his eyes. He shot me a hateful look when he saw me, but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

I stopped right in front of him. "You know why you're here?"

Cal nudged Leonard's shoulder to tell him he shouldn't wait too long to answer, and that made me wonder how well I was keeping my emotions in check.

"You gonna pay me for this?" Leonard asked.

I shook my head. "You tell us if the lady of the house is the woman who hired you or not, and you go home. If you're lucky, I forget where you live."

Leonard looked from me to Cal and Junior, then he shrugged. "Whatever."

There was an alley behind the row houses, and since I didn't want a repeat performance of the disaster with Pirelli, I sent Cal and Junior back there. Not that I expected a Burg housewife to have an escape route, but I wanted all bases covered. Once they were in place, we took the three steps up to the front door, me in front and Leonard behind me. Tank stayed on the sidewalk in case Leonard decided to make a run for it.

A short blond woman in her late 50s opened the door after my second ring. Her eyes widened when she saw me and she took a step back.

"Maria Cenetta?" I asked, automatically putting my foot between the door and the jamb.

She nodded. "Yes?"

I stepped to the side, pulling Leonard forward by his elbow. "Do you know this man?"  
"That's her," Leonard said at once and tried to pull his arm free.

I released Leonard and took a step forward, crowding Maria back into the house. "We need to talk."

"I'll call the police," she said, her voice shrill and her eyes wide.

"Please do," I said, closing the front door behind me. "It will save me the time to take you to the station."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Maria said and crossed her arms over her chest. She kept walking backwards into the house.

"I think you do," I said calmly. "I think you remember contacting Mr. Leonard to put out a contract on Stephanie Plum."

She sucked in some air. "That's ridiculous. I did no such thing."

I looked at her until she met my gaze. "Maria, we both know you did it. First of all, you're gonna call off the hit man. And then there's only two ways this can go."

"You have no proof," she shrieked and turned to bolt up the stairs.

I grabbed her by the back of her shirt and pulled her close to me. "As I was saying, two choices. One, you come with us to the police and confess everything."

Maria opened her mouth to protest but I cut her off. "Or two, you keep denying everything and the cops will find your corpse tomorrow."

She struggled to free herself from my grip, scoffing. "This is ridiculous. Let me go. Leave my house. Now."

Now we were both bluffing, but I hoped she didn't see through my bluff the way I easily saw through hers. She was shaking slightly and beads of sweat had formed on her forehead and upper lip. She was scared. She didn't know me; she couldn't know I wouldn't hurt an unarmed woman. Even though the picture of Steph bleeding in my arms because of what Maria Cenetta had done was trying to push itself into the forefront of my mind. I don't think I could have killed her, but it wasn't smart to waste time trying to find out for sure.

"Make. The. Phone. Call," I said slowly, pushing her down the hall to the small phone table.

Maria jumped when the door opened. "Problems?" Tank wanted to know.

I didn't turn around, I wasn't going to take my eyes off her. Now she took in Tank's stature and looked from him back to me. I think her imagination filled in the blanks.

She took a few steps towards the phone table and then spun around, changing her tactics. "That little tramp deserves to die!" she spat.

I hadn't expected this, I was sure she'd be professing her innocence right until she was arrested, but I managed to keep my expression neutral.

"Don't you see?" Maria almost wailed. "She destroyed my daughter's life! She robbed her of her future!"

"Make. The call," I repeated, unable to stop my fists from clenching and unclenching. I never wanted to hit a woman so badly in my life.

Steph had almost died, twice even, because Maria Cenetta failed to see Kenny Mancuso for the scumbag he was. Steph was being punished for doing the _right _thing.

"She still isn't married," Maria continued instead. "No one will marry her after that tramp destroyed her reputation. My daughter deserves better. With the Plum slut out of the way, the Burg will see that again."  
Tank's hand settled on my shoulder a millisecond before I was going to slug her. That's all it took for me to regain control.

"You have two minutes," I said, not surprised my voice was calm and controlled. "If you haven't called Pirelli and cancelled the contract by then, you have my promise you won't be able to make phone calls for a long, long time."

"I…I don't think I can cancel it," she said, again looking back and forth between me and Tank.

"Call," I said and shoved her so she stumbled that last couple of feet towards the phone.

She yelped and finally picked up the receiver.

It was a short conversation, as I knew it would be. Despite his 'man of honor' talk earlier, Pirelli didn't care one way or another about Steph. He was a hit man, not a psychopath. He'd gotten his money, his client canceled the contract. There was no refund policy.

I didn't give a shit how much Maria Cenetta had paid, she'd get off easy with getting a fair trial. Pirelli wouldn't be so lucky, if I had it my way.

"You got what you wanted," Maria said when she hung up the phone. "I have to go to work now. Leave my house."

I shook my head slowly. "Two choices," I reminded her. "That hasn't changed."

She pressed her lips together and I could see her calculating her options. She knew she had no chance physically against me, much less Tank, the only variable was whether we were serious or not. Without looking, I knew Tank was staring her down the way I was.

Would she turn to pleading? Would she go without a fight? Women can surprise you at times.

The silence stretched for a long moment before Maria gave in. Her shoulders slumped. "I'll go to the police in the morning."

I shook my head. "No need to wait. We'll take you right now. Grab what you need."

"What will the neighbors think! I can't leave with you!"

"I don't give a fuck what they think if you make us drag you kicking and screaming," I said and I could tell Maria believed me.

With a sigh, she picked up her purse and grabbed her jacket off a hook.  
I didn't call off Cal and Junior until Maria Cenetta was buckled in the backseat with the child locks engaged.

Tank drove, and I called Detective Stevens to meet us at the cop shop. I told him he was going to get a confession that would solve his case.

After I disconnected I turned to face Maria. "I find out you made me a liar, I'll come find you."

Tank cut his eyes to me but didn't say anything. I knew he was trying to gauge whether I was bluffing or serious. At that moment, I was dead serious.

I knew the who, and now I knew the why. But I still had to get my hands on Pirelli.

I needed to know there were no loose ends, when I would tell Steph that everything was OK, that she had nothing to fear, I wanted it to be the truth.

TBC

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A/N: I promise I won't take as long to update, I'm so sorry. I hope you're still with me. It just felt necessary to tie it all up, you know?

Do you see a HEA? Should Ranger overcome his doubts? Should he help Steph remember or have her find out for herself?


	11. Final Part

All characters belong to JE

Thank you all so much for your patience, I hope it was worth the wait.

You wouldn't read this chapter now if it wasn't for Stace, who was there for me through the whining and the bitching when my muse just up and left...Dank Dir Schatzi!!

I appreicaite all your feedback, and if I didn't get a chance to thank you in person, I'm sorry, but thank you very much for your reviews.

* * *

Hey God!

Final part

It took us the better part of two days to find Pirelli, and I'm pretty sure I lost an account because they felt neglected. I really didn't give a shit. Only Steph mattered.

I was finishing up some paperwork when Connie called me. "You did it," she told me.

"Explain," I said, not sure what she was talking about.

"Helen Plum lost it when she found out Maria Cenetta ordered the hit on Steph. I don't think she's been off the phone yet, she's calling everyone that lives or has ever lived in the neighborhood, telling them what Maria did in great detail. That woman will never be able to live in the Burg again, or even buy food at Gioviccini's," Connie said. I could feel her grinning on the other end.

I smiled. That seemed like a fair sentence to me. As if reading my mind, Connie continued, "That's like going to prison for life for a Burg wife, you know. She'll be shunned for the rest of her days!"

Yep, definitely the right punishment. I thanked Connie and disconnected, I needed to get the rest of the fucking paperwork done.

An hour later I had the last contract signed, but a headache was slowly making its way to the front of my skull. I needed to relax, I decided, and headed to the gym.

Tank got off the elevator when I got on, he'd just gotten off his shift at the hospital.

"Any incidents?" I asked him, holding the elevator doors open.

He shook his head. "All quiet. Still no sight of Mrs. Plum." He grinned. "I betcha Steph's dad has her tied and gagged at home so she can't come visit."

"If that's the only way to keep the news from Steph, I'm for it," I said. "Knowing about Cenetta won't help her right now, it'll be soon enough when she's released."

Tank nodded, still grinning, and I let the doors slide closed. I made a mental note to ask Mr. Plum what he really did to keep his wife home.

After I'd run for an hour I was drenched in sweat, but the headache was gone. I was still tired and pretty much running on adrenaline, but I knew I could catch up on sleep once Steph was safe. The only thing that mattered now was that everything went according to plan and Pirelli was mine at the end of the night. I felt ready to finally wrap the case up tonight, I hate unfinished business.

The team was leaving in two hours, to be in place an hour before Pirelli was supposed to meet his client there. Tank, Santos and I were the main team, another two would be the backup, just in case. I had a failsafe for every part of the plan, nothing could, or would, go wrong.

Santos's snitch didn't know where Pirelli lived, and we had his girlfriend's house under surveillance so we knew he didn't live there anymore. Instead, the snitch had told Santos about a new client that was willing to pay extra for Pirelli's services. So much more that Pirelli couldn't refuse, in fact. I didn't know who the client was, or who he wanted dead, and I didn't give a fuck. It wouldn't happen anyway, since this was our chance to take the fucker down.

My phone rang just as I keyed open my apartment door on the 7th floor.

"I want to be on the team tonight," Hector said.

Tempting. Hector could be a loose canon, someone who'd hit now and think later. Just what I needed tonight. "You already did your part by taking care of Leonard," I told him.

"I had nothing to do with that," Hector said and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Just 'cause he decided Trenton was too hot for him right now, I can't take credit."  
I grinned. "And the fact that he decided this an hour after you left his place is a coincidence?" I thought it was only fair to let Hector be the one to 'talk' to Leonard.  
"Exactly." I thought a broken nose was the least of Leonard's troubles, since Hector always made it his mission to protect Steph as best as he could.

"You're keeping tabs on him, right? We need him back up here for the trial," I said. I wanted make sure everyone involved got their punishment.

"I know when he so much as takes a piss down in Charlotte," Hector confirmed. "And I want to be there when you talk to Pirelli."

"You're with Santos," I said. "1800 hours, in the garage."

Now we were a team of 6, the more, the better.

After I'd showered and gotten dressed, I went back downstairs to suit up.

I had my weapons laid out on the desk in my office. The .38 for the ankle holster. The .45 for my belt, and my Army knife as a backup. This was a three weapon minimum job.

I ran my fingers over the smooth metal of the gun and I remembered the conversation I had with Steph about them. I told her I was not relationship material because I was packing, and because I never knew what the next moment would bring.

What a joke. In Trenton, even housewives carried guns. And no one knew what would happen tomorrow, that's the whole fucking point: You never know.

I'd told Steph that 'someday', maybe, I'd change my opinion.

It turned out 'someday' was a week ago Sunday.

I just couldn't get over the timing. In a rational moment, I knew it was bullshit to think it meant anything. But the next moment, I had to wonder why Steph was shot the minute she said she'd be mine.

"Enough," I ground out, slamming my fist on the desk, making the weapons on it jump.

Tonight, I'd take the last step to get her out of danger. Tomorrow, I'd…fuck, I didn't know.

I rubbed my palms over my cheeks. A week had gone by and I was still a schizophrenic coward.

A knock on the office door interrupted my brooding.

"Boss?" Santos said as he entered.

"All set for 18:00?" I asked him.

"We'll be ready," he said. "But do you think it's a good idea to take Hector? He gets kinda protective about Steph…"

I smiled and Santos shook his head as he got my meaning. "You can be a sick bastard, you know that?" But he was smiling too and I knew he had a similar vision in his head.

The more pain Pirelli suffered, the better. Unfortunately, I had to somehow make sure he survived once I got my hands on him. I didn't want to, but I had to. If Steph found out I killed him, she would blame herself for it, I knew that.

More'n one way to skin a cat though, I didn't have to kill him to inflict maximum pain.

My thoughts must have shown because Santos grinned and shook his head again.

"Do me a favor," he said. "If I ever make it on to your shit list, give me a chance to apologize, OK?"

I barked a laugh as he turned and closed my office door behind him. Santos couldn't know just what special kind of 'shit list' Pirelli had made it on by hurting Steph.

There was business, and there were people I worked with that I liked more than others. And then there was my personal life, and I had friends and enemies like the next guy. And then there were the people I loved, and if you messed with them, you messed with me, whether you wanted to or not.

Pirelli had fucked with me and now I'd get to fuck with him. I told myself I'd do the same thing for my sisters, and that was probably true. But would I want to kill him so badly if he'd hurt any of them?

I shook my head and snorted, again with the thinking. I'd never learn. I should focus on the action and leave the thinking to others. Yep, I'd get right on that.

"Fuck," I murmured under my breath.

So we'd take care of Pirelli tonight, then what? Steph would be safe. For now. It didn't solve any of _my_ problems with her.

Sooner or later, she'd get her memory back. It was only a matter of time until she looked at the necklace and remembered. And then she'd have questions. Once she remembered everything, it would be impossible not to tell her the truth, she wouldn't give up until she knew.

Then what?

Fifteen minutes to go time, my phone rang again. It was Ram. Ram was on hospital detail. My blood turned cold as soon as I saw his number.

"Talk." Tell me Steph is OK.

"Boss, we have a problem. It's Steph," Ram said.

I was out of my office and in the elevator before he had finished that sentence.

"What's going on?" Had this elevator always been this slow? It seemed to take hours to crawl down to the garage level.

"She…hold on." It sounded like a scuffle on the other end, then Steph screamed and Ram grunted.

I'd heard enough. I disconnected and sprinted to my Porsche, starting the engine before I had the door closed. Once again wishing for a Kojak light, I threaded my way through rush hour traffic as fast as possible. Twice I ran a red light and once I drove on the sidewalk, cursing under my breath, when cars blocked my way. All I could think about was Steph, I had to make sure she was safe. Probably I broke all existing traffic laws on my way over to the hospital, and it still took me almost a half hour.

Tank called when I was almost there, wondering where the fuck I was and I told him to go ahead without me, just be sure to bring the fucker in. I'd really wanted to be there for the takedown, but Steph was more important. Had we been wrong? Was Pirelli not the threat? Fuck, what if this was a copy cat, the shooting had made the front page. What if...fuck.

I took the last corner on two wheels and screeched to a stop in front of the ER's entrance, there was no time for parking. The tires were still smoking when I yanked the keys out of the ignition and almost leapt out of the car.

"Sir, you can't…" A rent-a-cop tried to stop me but I ignored him.

I was going as fast as I could, yet it felt like I was crawling, the sliding doors to the lobby seemed to get further away instead of coming closer.

I stopped and took a breath, shaking my head to clear it. I had to get a fucking grip!

I only glanced at the elevator, knowing I'd never have the patience for it. Images of Steph tried to muscle their way to the forefront of my mind, bound and gagged Steph, bleeding Steph. Dying Steph. I took the stairs three at a time.

How could I let this happen again? I'd left her with my best man and the hospital was monitored inside and out, you couldn't make it through the doors without being registered. What the fuck had happened?

I barreled through the fire doors on Steph's floor and was confused when I saw Zero at his spot outside her room.

Before I could question him, though, I heard Steph. "Let. Me. Go!" she seemed to grind out between clenched teeth.

If she was in danger, Zero wouldn't be calmly standing outside. And he certainly wouldn't grin at me. Was this a fucking joke or something?

"Good thing you're here, Boss," Zero said. "I don't know how much longer Ram can hold his own."

I pushed open the door and finally got it. I took a deep breath of relief and my heart rate dropped back to normal when I she wasn't in danger.

"What's going on?" I asked, taking in the scene, and trying hard not to laugh out loud.

Ram had his arms around Steph from behind; she was struggling to get free. I could tell that Ram had difficulty restraining her without hurting her. He was an ex-Marine who knew about 36 ways to kill a man with his bare hands, but against Steph, he was helpless. I glanced over to the bed where her small duffle back was open on her bed.

"Were you leaving?" I asked her.

She'd stop struggling when I opened the door and now Ram dropped his arms and she turned to glare at him.

"I was," she said. "Before your gorilla tried to stop me."

"Steph, you haven't been released yet. Did you talk this over with the doctor?"  
"I'm going crazy in here!" she said and rubbed her arms where Ram had held her in his iron grip. "I feel much better, and I promise to stay off my feet. But I have to get the hell out of here!"

Ram shot me a look, I nodded, and he backed out of the room. I knew he'd seen combat during his time in the Marines, I was wondering if he was comparing it to controlling Steph right now. He made a quick retreat and closed the door behind him.

Steph watched him go and then turned to me. I noticed she looked much better, but the effort of standing up was exhausting her quickly.

"You better get back into bed," I said, jerking my head towards her bed.

"I'm leaving," she said.

I closed my eyes for a second. Grabbing her and taking her back to her bed caveman style wouldn't help right now. I needed logic.

"Where would you go?" I asked. "You'll need someone to take care of you, at least for the next week or so. Did you plan on asking Rex to change your dressing?"

She glared at me but I could tell I'd hit a nerve. She hadn't thought farther than getting the fuck out of Dodge. But I knew she wouldn't give up that easily.

"I'll stay at my parents' house," she said, narrowing her eyes as if readying herself for another argument from me.

I nodded. "Yeah, that'll work. I'm sure your mother and grandmother would take care of you 'round the clock. You'll be in good hands. You'd have your own room and would only have to share the bathroom."

I had to bite back a grin when I saw Steph's reaction. As I'd planned, she was probably picturing her parents and grandmother hovering over her, smothering her, watching her every move. And she'd be trapped in their house.

She sighed and slowly lowered herself into one of the visitors' chairs, clearly in pain. "I can't stay here. It's driving me crazy," she repeated.

I could see that she meant it. Steph has always hated hospitals, but she never had to stay more than 24 hours in one. This time, it had been almost a week. I knew she was still in pain, but she just couldn't stand it any more. The worst part was that her mind was made up. Once Steph knows what she wants, she's going to get it. No one can talk her out of it. She'd die trying, if that's what it took.

"Look, how about a compromise. Why don't you come stay at my house?" I asked, surprising myself.

I'd never even shown her the house. I'd never invited a girl over, and only a few of my men even knew where the house was. But in these few minutes, I'd made up my mind. I would share everything with her, it was hers to take or leave.

I couldn't tell her about why she had the necklace, but maybe I could start over. I'd done it once, I could do it again.

Steph shook her head slowly. "You know I love your men, but I don't think I'd be up for that right now. It wouldn't be any better than at my parents'."

RangeMan had never even occurred to me. Ella was out on vacation this week and I'd be too distracted around work. No, I was going to take time off to be with Steph. Alone with her. Right after I took care of Pirelli once and for all.

I took a step toward her and squatted down in front of her. "No Steph," I almost whispered. "Not RangeMan. My _house_."

"What do you mean?" she asked, frowning.

I traced her jaw bone with my fingers and she closed her eyes, leaning against my hand. "Let me take care of you."

"The Bat Cave," she whispered.

I nodded although she couldn't see me.

"Where it's forever," she continued and leaned forward.

I didn't know how to answer that, now I was the one being confused. She looked up and reached under her sweater, pulling out the necklace I had given her. She was wearing it!

Steph lifted her arms and snaked them around my neck, pulling me to her.

A small smile spread over her lips. "Take me home Batman."

~ The End ~

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A/N: I'm so sorry ot took me so long, thank you guys for staying with me. I know I didn't take you to the showdown with Pirelli, I hope you don't mind too much. If you'd like to know what happened, I'll give you an epilogue, just let me know.


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